


That Look In Your Eyes

by BluestWitch



Series: LOOKS [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Discussion of Abortion, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Marriage Proposal, Post-Hogwarts, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, a lot of humor indeed, not graphic sex, not the usual tooth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluestWitch/pseuds/BluestWitch
Summary: “She had a hard, blazing look in her face...” (HBP, P499)What if that look was kind of special? What if it marked the most significant moments in Harry and Ginny’s relationship? If you are a fan of canon- compliant, post-Hogwarts fictions, come and read mine. You will have fun.Winner of the July 2018 Dumbledore’s Silver Trinket Award for Best Comedy at SIYE.This fic is the first written, and the spine of my post-Hogwarts universe, LOOKS.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: LOOKS [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826071
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. That Look In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first adventure in fan fiction. It was only meant as a hobby and I wasn’t going to publish it, but my daughter enjoyed reading it so I thought, why not? And oh boy, how well people welcomed it- and me, for that matter. Firstly published unedited, this new version is edited and corrected with the help of Arnel, who promptly offered to Beta, because she is nice and wonderful.
> 
> I know this has been rewritten like a zillion times, but I always missed some realism: Harry is not rolling in Galleons in this story, nor does he hands out expensive brooms as birthday gifts. Happy relationships can be perfectly possible, but not without a bumpy ride. And I mention a sensitive topic in the last chapter. I am in my forties and my life experiences show a bit. But other than that, yes, there is fluff and a lot of humour.
> 
> That being said, welcome to my story. I hope you enjoy it. :-)

July 2003

Harry woke up slowly, clutching the fringes of a strange dream. Dozens of Pygmy Puffs were rolling on the floor of the kitchen and a crazed Ginny was insisting they had to catch them all so they could put them to bed. The Pygmys proved impossible to round up so Ginny started crying while insisting they were going to lose their custody. At which point, he tried harder to scoop the creatures while Crookshanks made an appearance and tried to chase the little beasts. Such was the effort, he ended up waking exhausted. 

He sat in bed, thinking strangely about Trelawney and the fuss she would have made of such a peculiar dream, when he realized two things: one, that Ginny was not sleeping at his side. This was weird, because she was not a morning person, much less being the first day of her holidays. Two, that he could hear her in the bathroom… and she was sobbing?

“Gin?” he called. 

The noise from the bathroom ceased abruptly. 

“Ginny? Are you ok?”

“Yes! I think so!” she answered in a strange, high-pitched voice. “Never been better! I’m great!” And just like that, he heard her start to giggle.

 _This might count for one of my weirdest mornings, and I’ve had quite a bunch of them,_ thought Harry. He got off the bed and went to the bathroom. Harry stopped at the door, taking in the scene that took place in front of him.

Ginny sat on the toilet, laughing in a way that could be described as slightly insane. She was still in her pajamas and her hair was loose. Her face radiated exhilaration, the type of happiness he often saw in her after winning a match. But her eyes also had that gleam she had after a couple celebratory shots of Firewhisky. Neither made sense, Harry thought. Her last match, which precisely she had lost, had been a fortnight ago. She had been really down after, and Harry had hoped the holidays would cheer her a bit. And she had not had any Firewhisky lately, celebratory or not. Seven in the morning did not seem the best hour to have a drink, and there was not a bottle in sight. 

Harry scratched his head. He was puzzled, and meanwhile, Ginny kept giggling.

“Er… care to explain me what’s this all about? Are you ok?” asked Harry. _And mentally stable_ , he added to himself. 

Ginny nodded frantically. She did not speak, but her laughing subsided and stopped. She gazed at him with a look he did know very well… a hard, blazing look… He gulped, feeling nervousness creeping inside. 

He did know that look so well…

“You have that look in your eyes.”

Ginny cocked her head. “I beg your pardon? How am I looking at you?”

“It’s… it’s the most intense stare in the world. Every time you’ve looked at me like that, it’s been a turning point in our lives. I… I can remember each and every one of those moments… and now I’m nervous at to what expect.”

For some reason, this caused a new fit of giggles from Ginny, short-lived this time. 

“Ok Potter, now you got me curious,” she said. “I’d very much like you’d recall which moments were those. Since I can’t see myself, I think I could figure one or two of them, but not the whole lot. Care to fill me in?”

“No. I prefer to know what’s going on now.”

“Well, I’m not saying,” she said mischievously. “You’re going to tell me about those moments, and after you’ve finished, I will clue you in, if you haven’t guessed already.”

Harry groaned. “You now I hate riddles. Pun not intended.”

“Oh, but you’re good at puzzles. You can collect hints and signs and then solve the mystery, Auror Potter. I’m up for a bit of fun. Aren’t you?”

“To be fair, no. The only thing I’m up for is a cooked breakfast.”

Ginny made a face. “Well, I’m not hungry right now, so humor me? Please?” She arranged her features in her well-rehearsed begging expression. 

“Do not dare to inflict your puppy eyes on me, Weasley,” he said. Ginny added praying hands on. Harry sighed, giving up. “All right. First time I saw that look on you, it was the first time we kissed.” Despite his annoyance at the game, he couldn’t help smiling.

Ginny grinned, too. “I remember. Common room, after winning the Quidditch cup. You climbed through the portrait hole and I ran to you.”

“And I kissed you.”

“That’s what you think. I was first,” teased Ginny. 

“Sorry, but I distinctly recall kissing you first and then you kissing me back.”

Ginny shrugged. “Well, sure, have it your way. Which one next?”

Harry rubbed his eyes. “Not so happy this one. After Dumbledore’s funeral, when I broke up with you.”

Ginny smiled sadly. “Yes, I also remember that. You were stupidly noble, as usual.”

“I had to do what I had to do. It tore me apart, but that look on your face told me that you understood, that you wouldn’t expect less of me. It gave me the strength I needed.”

“I wish I could say I felt the same strength. It was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do in my life, letting you go when we had just begun to be together and didn’t know if I was going to see you.”

“Are you kidding? You were a rock! Remember my seventeenth birthday? That was another time you stared at me like that. You were so sure, so bold… looking at you was like trying to look at the sun.”

“What I didn’t tell you was that just before that moment, I was so nervous, Hermione had to give me a pep talk. She was also in charge of keeping undesirable intruders off,” she grimaced. “I had planned to go as far as I could, and thanks to my nosy brother, a kiss was all we got.”

“Best present of the day, the kiss you gave me. No, best gift of my whole life until then. On the months that followed, that memory kept me going on uncountable times. Till’ what I thought it was the end.”

“Thank God, it wasn’t. You returned,” said Ginny. 

“And that’s when you gave me that look again.”


	2. When You Gave Me That Look Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I began to write fan fiction, I intended to do only this chapter as a one shot. But I couldn’t stop, that was when I decided to expand the story into several chapters and use Ginny’s look as a way to link them. I’ve read several reunions at Gryffindor Common Room, but in nearly all of them the characters got interrupted. I wanted Harry and Ginny to have a long, uninterrupted conversation. This is a Monster Chapter but I just couldn’t split it in two. It answers some questions the seventh book did not; for instance, why the Weasleys were not taken prisoners at the wedding, after the Ministry fell. I hope you would like my explanation: it may seem crude and disturbing, but no war has ever been pleasant :-(  
> (Trigger warning: talk of sexual abuse)

**May 3rd, 1998**

He woke up drenched in sweat, a scream frozen in his throat. 

A green light. Bodies. The Great Hall, full of bodies. Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Fred… and George, Bill, Fleur, Arthur, Molly, Kingsley, McGonagall, Hermione, Ron. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Luna. And Ginny. Everybody Harry loved and cared for, dead... 

He sat bolt upright, panicking, unable to shake the image of the bodies from his mind, when suddenly a loud snore from somewhere close made him to return abruptly to his senses.

The snore was Ron’s. A very alive version of him, sprawled over his bed in their old bedroom at Gryffindor Tower. An equally alive Hermione was curled at his side. They were still wearing the same stained and torn clothes in which they had fought. Strangely enough, the sound of the snores calmed Harry’s ragged breathing, easing him. They were not dead, Riddle was. The battle had been won. 

Harry scratched his head. Hermione and Ron were now an item. That was going to take a little while to get used to. Leave it to them to pick the middle of a battle to finally get together. 

He groaned inwardly and let himself fall on his back again, hoping to find some sleep again, but soon he had to give it up as a bad job. He was now too alert, too sore and, on top of it, he stank. First things first, he thought. A bath was in order, now that he had rested. He glanced through the window. It was night again: how much had he slept? Harry checked his battered watch. Two in the morning. _Wow, I slept like the dead_. No sooner had he thought that, he regretted it. Too many actual deaths had happened. He focused on the present. It was painful to think of the recent past. 

Being that late, he decided to try the prefects’ bathroom. He didn’t fancy a midnight stroll for the deserted corridors, but it would be worth just to clean himself proper and thoroughly. The password was not going to be a trouble, he reckoned. Just as the gargoyle at the foot of the headmaster’s office had let them pass, so had the Fat Lady when they had approached Gryffindor Tower earlier. Normalcy at Hogwarts had halted –nothing was like it was supposed to be. 

Despite the heavy damage sustained by the castle, the prefects’ bathroom remained intact and Harry enjoyed a long, uneventful bath that eased the various aches and sores he suffered, although it did little to heal the burns and cuts he still sported. Cursing himself for not having picked up some dittany along with the clean clothes he had produced out of Hermione’s bag, he decided to go back to Gryffindor Tower and get it. He did not want to disturb Madam Pomfrey, who surely would have enough on her plate treating the injured. He also had a big bruise on his chest, where the Killing Curse had hit, and breathing hurt a little, but that could wait. Maybe he should ask Mrs Weasley to have a look at it… 

And then he remembered her, crying at Fred’s side. Suddenly, breathing was not the only painful thing. Fred, Lupin, Colin… Tonks! She could have stayed back with Teddy, yet she chose to fight. She, like many others, had trusted him blindly, and paid with their lives for it. A lump formed in his throat, remembering them. Maybe if he had given himself up earlier… but he did not know he had to do so until he saw Snape’s memories in the Pensieve. Still, he knew Voldemort wanted him and only him before the battle…

Harry tried not to think about it. He forced himself to dress up, Vanish his dirty clothes –he did not want to wear them again– and return to Gryffindor Tower. Wondering if Ron would have left some sandwiches on the plate Kreacher had provided yesterday morning, he greeted The Fat Lady, busy calming a distressed Violet, and climbed through the portrait hole. He began to walk in the direction of the stairs, only to stop in his tracks at the sight of an unexpected vision. The common room was no longer empty. Somebody was sitting in the armchair in front of the fireplace.

It was Ginny. 

She was wearing her Quidditch shirt and trousers and as she heard his footsteps, she raised her head and stared at him. Harry felt rooted to the spot, unable to do nothing but to look at her. Finally, she got up and walked towards him. For a fleeting moment, Harry was reminded of the day of their first kiss, when she had run into her arms in the middle of the celebration. But she looked sad and tired, not joyful and lively. Her skin was bruised and pale in the light of the torches, her hair hung limply, and she moved slowly, as if dragging herself, but her eyes never wavered from his. She came to a halt in front of Harry and looked at him with an unreadable expression. 

He tried to say something, but failed. His heart, which seemed to have stopped briefly and restarted galloping frenetically, was now also swelling with emotion thus rendering him incapable of speech. All he could manage was a soft “Hi Gin” and a tentative smile. 

Next thing he knew, Ginny was punching him in the arm. 

“DO NOT DARE _GIN_ ME, YOU PRAT! HI? THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?”

 _Ok, this definitely doesn’t look like that day_ , thought a bewildered Harry, who could only stutter words.

“I– I’m…”

“YOU THINK YOU CAN COME HERE AND HAVE ME WRAPPED IN COTTON LIKE A UNICORN HORN, STORED AWAY SAFELY IN THE ROOM OF REQUIREMENT?”

“I didn’t…” he protested, but Ginny did not relent. 

“I wanted to fight! I CAN fight as well as anyone! I understood you had to go away and save the world but you made me sit and wait!”

“What? No, that was your mother…” He tried to get a word in between, but this only incensed her more. 

“I know it was my mother! But YOU did not side with me!!! And then you went looking for Voldemort alone and let us believe you were dead! Can you barely IMAGINE how it was for us, seeing your body in Hagrid’s arms? Did you stop to consider what you were putting us through?” she yelled. “NO! Harry James Potter, you’re such a HYPOCRITE!” She jabbed her finger hard into the ribs, punctuating her words. 

Unfortunately, her fingers connected with the ironclad punch bruise caused by the Killing Curse and a wave of intense pain overcame Harry, who staggered and clutched his chest. His vision blurred and he sought a chair for support. 

“Harry? Harry, are you hurt?” He heard her voice, which now sounded concerned.

“I’m fine… just a little bruised, it’s nothing…” 

Ginny scowled at him. “Fine, my arse. Let me see that. I can help with minor healing.”

“Nah, don’t bother. I was on my way to get some dittany. It’s all right. Nothing I can’t handle.” The pain had subsided just a little, but Harry did not want to worry her. 

“Don’t play the hero card with me,” she insisted. “Whatever you have, it doesn’t look all right. Madam Pomfrey is busy, the hospital wing is full. You obviously need someone to check you and I’m not going to wake my mother or Hermione to do it. So take that shirt off.”

Harry nearly recoiled at Ginny’s impersonation of Mrs Wesley’s glare, but did not surrender. No way he was letting her see him half naked, bruised and thin. Over his dead body. _Not the best metaphor_ , he thought. _Already been dead a little too much._

“Thanks, but I think I’ll wait.”

But Ginny was having none of it. She pulled out her wand and pointed it to Harry. 

“Listen, Potter. Either you take off that shirt, or I’ll Vanish it. Your choice.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

Ginny smirked. “Do you think I haven’t seen any naked boys before? Well, for your information, not only am I the youngest in a house full of brothers, but you’re not the first I’ve had to patch up against his will. Ask Neville or Seamus. So,” she said, glowering, “are you going to make things easy or not?”

Harry swallowed and put up a desperate line of defence: being honest. “I– I don’t want you to see me… I’m not… I don’t want you to– to…”

Ginny softened her features. “Listen, Harry, I’ve seen enough injuries that took a turn for the worse after being left unattended. You are not going anywhere until you let me check those ribs. And if this is all about your stupid pride, save yourself the embarrassment. You are no knight in shining armour, nor am I any distressed lady. Be sensible and let me heal you. I’m going to do it regardless of you willing or not.”

“How do you figure that?” asked a puzzled Harry. 

“Disarming, Stupefying, Vanishing, treating, and then Rennervating. Maybe I won’t even need to Disarm you, I’m counting on you being noble. But I’d very much prefer not to. It’s best to examine wounds with a conscious patient. So you can tell where it hurts and all that. Not to mention the fact that I’m not sure I’d be able to conjure the same shirt, so if you’re fond of it, better not risk it.”

Harry did not care about the shirt, but he realized that she had the upper hand in the matter, for he truly did not think he could raise his wand against her. Giving up, he nodded and took off his shirt. Conscious of his dreadful state, he tried to hide hugging himself, but Ginny prevented it, stopping him. 

“Stay still for me, I have to get a look at this. Goodness, Harry, you’re a mess,” she said, taking into account the many cuts, burns, old and new scars and the big bruise scattered across his chest and arms.

“Yeah, well, the last months have been a bit rough…” he said, looking to a faraway point in order to hide the blush in his face. 

“Understatement of the year. Do you have trouble with deep breaths? I think one or two ribs may be cracked.” She gently felt the bones with her fingers, searching for fractures.

Goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold air erupted in his skin, until he winced in pain when she found a sore spot. Nodding to herself, Ginny drew her wand and waved it in a complicated motion over the bruise. Harry felt sudden warmth followed by a pleasant coolness and recognized the signs of healing bones. Madam Pomfrey had mended him so many times in the past that it was an unforgettable sensation. As was the taste of the Skele-Gro she usually gave him after, to ensure a correct welding. _At least this time I’m not going to get a dose of that foul stuff_ , he thought. 

“You should have some Skele-Gro, you know, for good measure.”

So much for hoping. 

“Er, no, I don’t want to go to the hospital wing…” But Ginny was not paying attention to him. She got up and turned slowly on the spot, looking for something. 

“I’m sure it’s still somewhere… there it is!” She pointed her wand towards a small stool by the fireplace and wordlessly Summoned it, then proceeded to Transfigure it into a wooden chest. She opened it, revealing a collection of vials, bottles, gauze, bandages and several books. Harry recognized The Healer’s Helpmate among them. 

“How did you know that was there?”, asked a surprised Harry. 

“We’ve kept it here since October. The Carrows limited medical assistance to common illness and injuries not related to detentions. And we couldn’t go to the hospital wing if we got back from a DA stroll in not so perfect conditions… you know what I mean,” said Ginny, glancing up from the potions. “So we had to find a way to keep out of their reach some basic supplies but at the same time, they had to be in a handy place. Madam Pomfrey was furious because she wasn’t allowed to treat us, so she came up with this. She gave out disguised chests to members of the DA, to be placed in common rooms, dormitories and the Room of Requirement. She also smuggled us refills if we used them up. I don’t know how we could’ve survived without this,” told Ginny, now applying liberal amounts of Burns & Boils Brew to his scorched shoulder. Harry hissed as the skin stung. 

“Don’t worry, it won’t scar. You don’t want to have more, do you?”, she said, bandaging the shoulder. 

“Definitely not. You’re doing a good work. I didn’t know you knew how to do all this stuff.”

Her face saddened. “I didn’t. Last months have been a bit rough round here, too”, she said sarcastically. “At home, I used to watch my mother treating our injuries. With seven of us, there was always one or two of us queuing for patching up. So I had a basic knowledge, and this year I’ve had a lot of practice. And we had extra motivation to learn how to defend ourselves and do non-verbal stuff. Hogwarts wasn’t safe anymore.” Her voice had a sad note. 

“I know. Neville told me something. And we overheard people talking about you three, trying to steal the sword. How was the detention with Hagrid? I wonder… was it hard or was Snape pretending to be so in front of the Carrows?” said Harry. “It turned out he was on our side all the time, after all.”

Ginny stopped, looking immersed in thought. “You know, we wondered, too. When he caught us red handed, he went ballistic, but he didn’t let the Carrows have their way. If they had, I shudder to think how we could have survived what they had in mind. I’m thinking now that maybe Snape put on a good show. He boasted about the many dangers the Forest posed… but of course, actually Hagrid didn’t leave us alone. It wasn’t a picnic, though. The Carrows kept watch inside Hagrid’s hut to make sure we spent the whole bloody night in the Forest. We were on edge all the time, and it was a full moon night. Luckily, nothing happened but a few false alarms. Still, we kept a low profile for a while afterwards. Didn’t like to come back.”

She had finished dabbing potion on his arms, and was searching again into the chest. Harry did not like the silence. He wanted to know all about the months they had spent apart. “But you didn’t give up, did you? Neville told me you reformed the DA. I’m sickened to think you were in danger…” Ginny turned and scowled to him. Harry could tell she was about to snap, so he swallowed and kept on, “…and also proud. Very proud of you. You lot are the bravest.”

She blushed, but then shook her head, like she was trying to get rid of the embarrassment. 

“It wasn’t only me,” she dismissed. “Luna was the first to say we had to do something, on the first day of lessons. We’d had our first Muggle Studies lesson, it was nauseating, to put it mildly. Neville joined us in the courtyard where we were spending a free hour. He filled us with news from his first Defence class. He was outraged, Carrow had been prattling about how the society needed the Unforgivables in order to maintain ‘peace and the natural structure of the wizarding society’, and then he used a Stinging Hex to punish a girl who had failed to pay attention. We began to plot resistance that very same day.” Ginny sighed. “Little we knew a Stinging Hex was going to be the least of our troubles…” She looked down, barely whispering the words.

Harry felt revolted. What had she had to endure? He needed to know. Ginny had produced the Skele-Gro and a measuring cup out of the chest and was busy pouring a dose. 

“I was worried about you.”

Ginny glanced at him, but chose to disregard his comment. She thrusted the dose of potion into his hand. “Drink it. Mum will have my head if those ribs aren’t properly healed.”

He took the cup and swallowed the liquid, grimacing. “This is awful. All those brainiacs at St. Mungo’s, you bet they could’ve come up with something that doesn’t taste like rotten fungus.”

Ginny smirked. “As if you know the flavour of rotten fungus.” She was unscrewing a tube of paste that Harry recognized as the same one the twins gave Hermione on the summer before their six year, and was not meeting his eye. 

He snickered. “I do. Part of the diet, out there on the run. No matter how much did we Transfigure or cooked them, there was always a distinctly rotten flavour. Same as this potion, actually,” he said in what he pretended to be a light tone.

Ginny raised her head and gaped at him. “What on Merlin’s pants’ name have you been doing these months?”

“I thought we were talking about what _you_ were doing.”

“Not anymore. Your turn, Potter,” she said sternly. 

Harry sighed. He owed her an explanation, he knew that. He would have preferred to keep talking about what had happened to her in the time spent apart, but Ginny still looked cross and trying to steer the conversation back at her would do no good.

“Could I have my shirt back first? It’s cold, and this is going to take a while.”

“Oh, sure, sorry. Just rub some paste in that bruise–“ she pointed to the one left by the Killing Curse, “but be careful not to touch that cut just over it. It hasn’t healed with the dittany, so it will scar. Must be some curse you took. Any idea which one?” She handed him the tube, but did not offer to spread it for him. 

“Yeah, but that comes at the end of the story,” he said bitterly, spreading paste over the ribs. 

Ginny gave him a quizzical look. “All right… now shoot, Potter.”

Harry nodded, but took his time putting the shirt back on, wondering how to begin. 

“Do you remember the meetings I had with Dumbledore on my sixth year?”

“Yeah, I delivered one of his messages to you, didn’t I?”

 _True_ , Harry thought; _it happened on the morning of a pretty eventful day._

“He told me that he had found out Voldemort was using Horcruxes as lifesavers. They’re objects used as a store of soul parts, ripped off by committing murder. As long as those parts existed elsewhere, he couldn’t die, so prior to attacking him we had to make sure to destroy those things first. And he had seven of them.”

Ginny was staring at him with wide-open eyes. “Seven? Is… is that even possible?”

Harry nodded. “That’s why he looked less and less human. Horcruxes can be anything, but Dumbledore narrowed the search to objects with a special significance, either they had belonged to the four Hogwarts founders, or were specially related to him, for instance Nagini the snake, and…”

Ginny gasped and paled. “Riddle’s diary.”

Harry nodded. “Yes. It was because of the diary attacking you that Dumbledore could figure out the whole story. It wasn’t a simple memory, Ginny. It was a part of Riddle’s soul.”

This revelation was met with a silence. Ginny looked petrified and white as a sheet. Suddenly, she stood up retching and before Harry could figure what to do, she was violently sick. He jumped to her side and held her. She was shaking, so he conjured a towel for her, Vanished the puddle and looked around for water. He spotted the sandwiches and pumpkin juice Kreacher had brought on a table by the sofa in front of the fireplace, so he steered Ginny towards it, made her sit and poured her a goblet of juice. She did not take it: her hands were still trembling. 

Harry sat down at her side. “I’m sorry, Gin.” _Sorry_ did not even begin to cover the extent of his feelings, but he did not know what else to say. 

Ginny took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Why should you be sorry? You didn’t make that damned thing. If anything, I should be the sorry one. The girl stupid enough to let herself be possessed.”

“You couldn’t help it. Riddle was a consummated manipulator since young age, and you were eleven! You tried to fight it, by throwing it away, don’t you remember? Quirrell was a fully qualified wizard and he willingly let him take over his head! Anyway, if it weren’t for you, Dumbledore wouldn’t have discovered the existence of Horcruxes, and the way to finish him off.”

Ginny still seemed shaken, yet she looked Harry in the eyes. “He’s gone, is he? Really gone?”

“For good.”

“I want to know the whole story. Please, spare me nothing. I _need_ to know.” There was something desperate in her plea. 

Harry sighed. “It’s a long story, and some parts are not mine to tell.”

“Then you’d better start.”

And so he did. He told her about the ring and the diary, the ones already destroyed when Dumbledore and he went out to find the locket. How it turned out to be false, how they discovered that Regulus Black had swapped the lockets and trusted Kreacher with the real one. He told her about the prophecy. The stories of the Horcrux hunt led to the ones of the Hallows quest, and Harry was telling her about Godric’s Hollow when Ginny interrupted. 

“Hang on, you and Hermione? Whatever happened to Ron?”

Harry bit his tongue. _Bloody hell, I shouldn’t have said that. Shit, now I’ve done a Hagrid._

“Yeah, well… remember me saying there were parts that weren’t mine to tell? You should ask Ron and Hermione about that.”

“I hope my prat of a brother didn’t walk out on you,” said Ginny, a shrewd look in her face. 

Harry shrugged. “Whatever Ron may or may not have done, I owe him my life, Gin. He’s my best mate, always has been. He doesn’t deserve to be called a prat.”

Ginny smirked. “I’ll take your word for it. I saw him holding hands with Hermione. If he was able to find his bollocks and go for her, I reckon he’s earned some respect… why are you laughing?”, she said, as Harry began to scoff. 

“That wasn’t him! He messed up things so bad with her that by Christmas, she wouldn’t speak to him! Your brother had to work hard to get himself in her good books again. Eventually, last night he said we should make sure the house-elves were safe and that was it for Hermione. She was the one who kissed first! You missed it by seconds, it happened right after we asked you to leave the Room of Requirement. They glued together so fiercely, I had to yell at them to get their attention back to the matter in hand!” Harry was now positively rolling with laughter. 

Ginny was, too. “Aww, and I would have supposed nothing could give more opportunities to romance than hiding away in a tent…”

“Told you, it was nothing like that.” Harry felt the fun slipping away. “I suppose camping can be romantic, that’s it, if your face is not advertised as Undesirable Number One, the food is better than barely edible fish and you’re alone with your girl, not feeling like the third wheel.”

He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the shirt, for something to do. When he put them back on and dared to glance at her, Ginny was staring at him unwaveringly. 

“I take it that the dating opportunities were indeed scarce? Did you meet any Veelas?” she said. “While you three were out there, looking out for Voldemort bits?”

“Well, we spent the last weeks at Shell Cottage. So, if you count Fleur...”

Ginny smiled. “No, she doesn’t count.”

“Well, then, the answer’s no.”

Her smile went slightly wider, but she did not elaborate. Harry felt the old sensation of something hopeful inside him taking form. Before he could figure something else to say, though, Ginny spoke. “How did you lot end up at Bill and Fleur’s? I thought you knew how to hide yourselves, what with Hermione doing the spells and all that.”

Harry exhaled, relieved to have the awkward silence broken. “That was a stupid mistake. I said ‘Voldemort’ and activated the Taboo. One moment we were alone, the next Snatchers surrounded the tent with wands pointed at us. We were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor...”

Ginny froze. “Oh my God. Bill wouldn’t tell us where you came from. How did you manage to escape?”

Harry resumed the story of the whole ordeal, and how he had figured where the next Horcrux was, which led to the explanation of the Gringotts’ break in. Ginny was an avid listener. Sometimes she nodded or gasped, but mainly she offered a silent encouragement for Harry to keep talking. As the time passed, he found that it was easier to open up to her, until he reached one point of the story. 

Snape’s memories. 

He hesitated, and Ginny sensed it. “What did you see in the Pensieve, Harry?”

“Snape… he was on our side, he hated my father, but he had loved my mother since they were children, that’s why he became a double agent. And that’s the ironclad reason Dumbledore had to trust him. He also asked Snape to finish him off, he was already dying from the curse the ring carried. And Snape was to deliver to me the final piece of the Horcrux hunt. The last one…” 

He couldn’t talk. He broke out in a cold sweat and his heart raced. Harry closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, but it was no use. He may as well be back on the floor of the headmaster’s office having just seen Snape’s memories for all the good it did. 

And then two smaller, warmer hands took his, and Harry opened his eyes. Ginny was looking at him with the same hard, blazing stare that meant she was determined to be supportive of him, because she could understand him perfectly. In fact, Harry thought, she was the one more suited to do so, because she, too, had been attacked by another of Riddle’s Horcruxes. 

“I was the last one, Gin.”

Ginny did not answer; she only gripped his hands harder. Harry felt her warmth creeping up his arms, giving him the resolve to keep talking. “That’s why I had to go to the Forest… so he could kill me, thus destroying the Horcrux inside me. The injury on my chest… It’s where I took his Avada Kedavra. But there was a flaw in his plan. Voldemort had taken my blood to create his body and that kept alive my mother’s sacrifice, binding me to life. Dumbledore had guessed it could work, and it did. I died… or not, I don’t know. I had a choice to come back or go on… and chose to return.” He paused for a bit, trying to steady his breath. 

“I didn’t stop to say goodbye because I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave. I saw you in the grounds, you were talking to a wounded girl. I very nearly revealed myself hoping you would stop me...”

“It was you?”, asked Ginny, surprised. “I thought I sensed you rushing past me, but I believed the exhaustion was playing tricks with my mind. But… it really was you. I…”. She blushed, and did not elaborate. 

He nodded. “I’m sorry, Gin, I hate that you had to believe me dead, but I couldn’t stay behind, I… Fred and Remus and Tonks were already gone, and it was my fault they were; if I had given myself up sooner, they could be alive!” Harry was now frantic, as if a gate had been opened and he could not stop the flood of words. “I had to go, so I wouldn’t put anyone else in danger. I didn’t want anybody dying for me, enough people had given their lives for me, and it was my fault! I’m sorry, Gin, I’m so sorry…!” 

And with that he came undone, crying his grief away, so overcome that at first, he did not notice the arms that were pulling him on a tight hug. He held on to Ginny as if she were a lifeline, weeping until he felt his throat raw and no more tears flowed, but still they kept close, leaning one against the other, for what could have been minutes or hours. 

Eventually, Ginny broke the silence. “You know no one blames you, right?”

He sighed, leant back and glanced at her. Her face was blotched, her eyes red rimmed, but her expression was firm and calm. She still was the most beautiful girl in the world. 

“But I can’t help blaming myself, Gin.”

She smirked. “I expected as much. Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. Always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and all that. But listen to me, Potter: I forbid you to drown in guilt. It’d drive you mad. Do you remember the days after the Chamber, in my first year?”

Harry tried to recall. Images of an eleven-year-old Ginny flooded his mind. The contrast between the sobbing girl at Dumbledore’s office and the cheerful one on the train back home stood out. “Yeah… You looked happy.”

“Bollocks. I put on a good show, but the guilt was eating me alive. I just didn’t want my family worrying over me. Then Colin came to see me, after he was unpetrified. Said that he did not blame me so nor should I, and that he was still my friend. Penelope and Hermione made also that point clear. Their forgiveness gave me some peace of mind, but I still felt ashamed of what I did. All these years I’ve worked on being a tougher and braver person, because I regarded myself as a weak and despicable one, if a simple memory kept in a diary could manipulate me.”

Harry managed a sad smile. “But you’re not that. You are an exceptional witch, Weasley.”

Ginny grinned. “Is this your way to get _yourself_ on my good books, Potter? Flattery, really?”, she tutted. “Anyway, what I am trying to tell you is, knowing it was a Horcrux, I think that is the closure I needed. It wasn’t a memory, it was a bloody, wretched, damned piece of bloody Riddle.” She had to be really mad, for she was using language that Mrs Weasley would definitely have not approved, should she happen to hear it. 

“For years I’ve been telling myself that Riddle is the only one responsible, not me,” pressed Ginny. “And now I definitely know. And that is all I am going to say to you: Voldemort was the only responsible of the war, and the deaths, and tortures. He and the ones foolish or evil enough to believe his crap. Even if you did not exist, or had not been the Chosen One, we would have fought, because we’re not the kind of people who tolerate bigotry, oppression and censorship. Lives would’ve been lost with or without you. I hate to unveil this for you, Potter, but you’re not the centre of the universe.” She completed her affirmation with a gentle nudge. 

Harry snorted. “As if I’d like to be.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You’re quite selfless. Bit prone to feel like you should save everybody’s day, though. That’s a virtue as much as a sin. You’re not going to forgive yourself easily, are you?”

Harry knew she was right, but found that said knowledge led to little relief. “I still feel like crap.”

“I know. It’s not going to happen overnight. But give yourself time, you’ll find it easier.”

He nodded, his fingers picking idly at a bandage in his forearm. Ginny swatted his hand away. “Hey, be careful with those. I don’t like anybody ruining my work.”

“Oh, sorry. You’ve done it amazingly,” said Harry, and then paused for a moment. He could no longer ignore the nagging worry about her role in the reformed DA. “It takes a lot of practice to get this OK…”

Ginny shrugged, looking sideways. “It’s not that difficult.”

“Gin, please. How bad was it?”, he asked. “I… I need to know, too.”

“Why? It’s over, and as we already established, it wasn’t your fault.”

Harry did not know what made him blurt out the truth. “Because I care about you.”

The blatant admission surprised Ginny for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “You don’t want to know.”

“I really do,” he insisted. “I suppose, seeing as you’re avoiding it, it’s something painful and Dark. I- you…” He felt frustrated, he failed to find words to explain himself. “Merlin, I suck at this, but look, I’m really concerned about you, and maybe you could feel some relief if you let it out. Like… like the way you’ve just been listening to me. I want to do that for you, too.” And he felt his face hot from blushing. 

Ginny stared fixedly at him for a long time, and then nodded. She retreated back into the sofa, and hugged herself. 

“The Carrows began with Stinging Hexes… but soon, the punishments escalated. They made us practice curses against fellow students. If you refused, they gave you detentions. And no more writing lines or cauldron scrubbing at them. They were _creative_ : one day they denied food to first years caught pranking others with Canary Creams, another a Hufflepuff was sleep deprived over two days just because he fell asleep in class. And well, I don’t know… what did Neville tell you?”

“He said… that some students were on it.”

Ginny sniggered. “Oh, yes, some loved it.” Her voice had a bitter tone. “And some thought that they could take… advantage of the situation.”

Harry felt his insides twisting. “What do you mean?”

Ginny hugged herself tighter, her eyes shut. “Do you really want to know?”

“I do.” _Not knowing is killing me_ , he thought. 

Ginny was silent for the longest pause until now, and just when Harry was going to insist, she spoke. “There were some… that tried to intimidate us… sexually. At first it was only verbal abuse. Catcalls, jeering, that sort of thing. Nothing a Silencio or a Bat Bogey could teach them better. Then one day, a fourth year girl reported to the Carrows –they appointed themselves on charge of discipline, above the Heads of Houses– that a boy had trapped her in a broom closet and tried to abuse her. She resisted and hexed the boy before he could do something. The Carrows didn’t believe her, citing among other nasty things, that a pureblood boy would never touch a half-blood with a Muggle father like her. And that sort of… left the field open, you know?”

Harry felt chills up his back that had nothing to do with the coolness of the room. “Are you saying what I think you are saying? Were you abused?”

“There were others who tried to take advantage of the climate of impunity. Groping, touching, Vanishing clothes of unaware victims… I don’t think anybody was actually raped, if that’s what you mean. At least, not that I know of. But … someone tried…” Ginny did not elaborate. She was sitting as far from him as the sofa would let her. Her hands were clenched, and she had her eyes tightly closed. 

Harry closed the space between them, and took her hands into his. He reckoned he should offer the same support she had had before for him, hoping it would be all right for Ginny. He did not know if she would like it or not, and felt relieved when she did not reject him.

“People began to protect themselves. The story spread quickly, and soon we looked after one another in the corridors, between classes, in the free periods. We discussed and taught defensive spells in the bathrooms and dormitories, kept updated on who might pose danger, all very quick and subtle so as to not raise suspicion. Some decent guys caught up on what was happening and helped. They used to accompany us in the corridors, making it casual, eavesdrop on other boys’ conversations, that sort of things.” Ginny paused after this, and refused to look at him, though she did not release Harry’s hands. 

“And then, the day before going home on Easter break, something happened to me,” she said whispering.

Like Ginny before, Harry just kept hold of her hands, waiting for her to talk. Somehow, he sensed that she would not appreciate being pushed into revealing whatever was tormenting her. This was all very new to him, but he hoped to be doing it ok. He also needed the time to brace himself for whatever she was going to say. His heart beat so fast, it could have galloped out of his chest. 

Finally, Ginny let out a big sigh, and spoke. “We were at Potions, last class of the day. Slughorn made me stay a bit longer because he wanted to discuss my last essay. We went up to the Entrance Hall together but then I left him to go to the library before dinner. There were a lot of people in the corridors, so I was relaxed, my mind set on the damned essay. Oh, Moody was so right insisting on constant vigilance!” she reminisced.

“I definitely know I went into the library, towards that section of rare potion books almost nobody visits. Next thing I knew, or more accurately, suspected it wasn’t right, I was inside an unused classroom on the fifth floor, taking my clothes off. I didn’t want to, but a voice in my head was ordering me to do it. I felt transported back to the Chamber, when Riddle nearly killed me while I was begging him not to. I was so terrified that I fought against it with all my will, and lifted the Imperius. It was… like waking up in the middle of a live nightmare,” said Ginny. She wasn’t crying, but her voice was heavy with emotion, as if fighting a lump in her throat. 

“What did you do?”, asked Harry. “Did you get hurt?” He could not have released Ginny’s hands for the life of him. 

“Luckily, somehow I managed not to panic, and kept my focus. He had taken my wand, so I pretended to follow his instructions a little bit more. I played along so I could get close to him unsuspectingly, and then…

Harry admired her nerve. He gripped her hands so hard that Ginny yelped.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” he said, letting go. “Please do continue.” 

Ginny took a deep breath. “And then I kneed him hard in the balls.”

Harry could not help grinning. “Well done!” _That’s my girl_ , he added to himself. “Who was the attacker? Did you know him?”

Ginny nodded. “A Slytherin from your year. Blaise Zabini. He… I took my wand and Summoned his while he was moaning on the floor. I put my clothes back on and then, just when I was about to leave, he insulted me… and that was the worst,” said Ginny. She fisted her hands so tightly that her knuckles went white. 

“Why? What did that bastard say? Go on.”

“He said that after being Potter’s whore, I should be grateful someone wanted to shag me… that was as bad as being attacked,” she said, visibly upset. 

Harry felt enraged. It was a good thing all the Slytherin students had been evacuated from the castle, for he thought that nothing could have prevented him from going after Zabini. As it was, he was having a hard time trying to control his feelings. “That wanker!” he cursed. 

Following this imprecation, Ginny grinned like a Cheshire Cat. The change was so abrupt, Harry wondered if exhaustion was playing tricks with his brain. 

“What makes you so happy?”, he asked. 

“Because _wanker_ might not be exactly the most fitting insult to describe him right now.” And without further explanation, she began to roll with laughter.

That left Harry even more puzzled. “Care to explain?”

“I hexed him before leaving. A variation of the Bat Bogey. It was untested, so heaven knows how it turned out,” said Ginny, still laughing. “I wished him good luck finding out. It most certainly should have made him refrain from attacking anyone else.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“He might be finding a certain… male body secretion being transfigured into something different. I hope it wouldn’t be _exactly_ pleasant. I named it the Slug Sperm Hex,” she said.

“Slug Sp… Wait. Merlin! You didn’t!” Harry barked with laughter.

“Hence the inaccuracy of wanker,” said a smug Ginny. 

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, you sure are a wicked witch.” _And I love you for that._

“Thank you,” she said, wiping tears of laughter. “God, this feels so good. Laughing like that.” 

“Yeah… we haven’t had many reasons to laugh lately.” A sudden thought sobered him. “And I’m guessing the next days are going to be pretty bad, too…”

Ginny sighed. Her face was sad again. “Yeah. What is going to happen now?”

“Haven’t got the faintest. I planned nothing beyond the war.” _I didn’t know if I would survive_ , he thought. 

Silence fell between them, but this time it was a companionable one. Finally, Ginny broke it. “I just want to go home,” she said. She furrowed her brows in thought. “I don’t know if we can go back right now, though. We had to leave in a hurry on Easter. Merlin knows if Death Eaters searched it after we sought refuge at Aunt Muriel’s. Maybe it’s not even still standing.”

“I want to go home, too,” said Harry. “But I don’t know where is that… The Dursley’s, definitely not. Hogwarts was the first place I felt at home, and now… it just doesn’t feel right, you know?” Harry rubbed his eyes. Despite having slept, he was feeling exhausted again. 

“Harry, you know you can always come with us. And you have Grimmauld Place! It’s not the best of places, but it could do.”

Harry shook his head. “I asked Kreacher yesterday about it. Apparently, Death Eaters did extensive damage to the house after we broke into the Ministry. It’s going to need a lot of curse breaking and renovations before anyone can set a foot inside. That’s why he came to live here.”

“Oh, well, you never liked that house. Maybe a new place would be better,” said Ginny.

“Yeah… I’m of age, I can have my own place. I don’t need much space, could be something small. Or, maybe I could have a spare bedroom, so I could have friends over.” Harry began to feel animated. “Or Teddy!”

He had forgotten that he was now a godfather. “Did you know that he is my godson?”

Ginny chuckled. “Yeah, I was present at his birth. Mrs Tonks asked my mother to help her, she’s not a midwife, but I suppose giving birth six times counts for something. I went with her and learned one or two things that night,” she grimaced. She clearly did not want to delve into the subject. “Babies are a lot of work. Andromeda will need all our help.”

“I won’t leave them on their own,” said Harry fiercely. “Remus and Tonks are gone and they trusted me to look after their son. I… I don’t want to be like Sirius, he couldn’t raise me and I met him too late. I will do whatever it takes to be there when he needs me. And I have gold, I can provide everything he needs.” _That boy is not going to wear hand-me-downs, if I can help it_ , he thought. 

And then, he remembered something that made him feel like a bucket of ice had dropped in his stomach. 

“What’s happening, Harry? You’re pale as a ghost,” said Ginny. She had noticed the sudden mood change. 

“My gold… Gringotts… the goblins!” he stuttered. “Merlin, we broke into the bank and the goblins were mad at us! I don’t think they’re going to let me into my vault! What am I going to do?”

“I… I don’t know, Harry, but don’t worry, you are a hero in the Wizarding world right now, surely they won’t be angry any longer. I mean, you were forced to do it so Voldemort could be defeated, weren’t you?”

But Harry was only half listening. Proud, rebellious creatures like the goblins did not strike him as forgiving. “But what if not? I will have to find a job… and I’m not qualified to do any! Haven’t got any NEWTs, who’s going to employ me?” Panic was rising quickly inside him.

“We’ll think of something, don’t fret…”

“How can I not worry? Ginny, I have a huge responsibility now!”

“Yeah, because you’ve lived so carefree until now, no pressures at all, huh?,” snickered Ginny. “You deserve a break!”

“A break? Where? I have no place to go!” He was positively yelling by now. 

“We’ll figure some–“

“No money, and unqualified!”

“Will you calm–“

“I CAN’T! I– I’m useless, and everything I had is gone!” He was pulling at his hair in desperation. 

“That’s ridiculous…”

“What am I going to do? I–“

“Will you shut up? Oh, _to hell with it!”_

And Ginny kissed him hard on the mouth. 

A lightning bolt could have struck him and he would not have felt more stunned. Taken by surprise, the kiss effectively shut Harry up. It took him some time to react, and by then, Ginny had straddled him and turned the kiss into a proper snog. His brain registered the shock and the wonder briefly, before throwing everything aside and concentrating only on her, on the taste of her mouth, on the feeling of her body pressed against him and her hands in his hair, on how much he had missed all this– he had missed _her_. He put his hands in her waist, and Ginny chose this moment to stop. Panting, she looked at him, their foreheads touching. 

“Will you now listen to me?,” she said, breathlessly. She let go of his head and leaned back, but stayed on his lap and took his hands in hers. Harry was simply speechless, so he only nodded.

“Good. First of all, you’re not alone, nor are you useless. For heavens’ sake, you are barely of age and you just took down the Darkest wizard our generation has seen! That might count for something! Secondly, Teddy is a baby! Gold is just something that glints and catches his eye. He only cares about food, naps and cuddles, and I bet you are more than capable of taking care of that. And lastly, Merlin, Harry, please give yourself a rest! You don’t have to do everything right now! We’re going home, wherever the hell that’ll be, and we’ll bury the dead, and then we… we’ll figure something, ok? But you’re not alone to do so. You have me, and a lot of friends.” She said all this very quickly, her face flushed.

Only a fraction of Harry’s brain acknowledged the fact that she was every bit right. All he could think was that she wanted him, despite being angry with him before. The tiny bubble of hope expanded and filled his chest. A lone fact stood up; “You kissed me,” he said.

“That I did,” she deadpanned. 

“Do you… do you want to be with me? After… after everything I’ve done to you?”

A smile flickered in her face. “’Course I want to, you great fool. I don’t typically kiss boys to shut them up, I hex them for that. Not that I have ruled it out with you. If you annoy me again, I might do it,” she said, offhandedly.

Harry could not believe his luck. “But you were mad with me earlier. And I ditched you, last year. I– I will understand if you’ve moved on, or… or found someone else.” He fervently hoped that was not the case. 

Ginny sighed. “I have to say, that plan of you, breaking up with me… it did work. At Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Death Eaters interrogated us. They knew we had been going out together, I reckon Malfoy told them. So I said that you had left me with no explanation, and I implied that you… that you did so after taking advantage of me. To say that my family was shocked would be understatement. Of course it wasn’t true and they knew it, but they supported the lie because it explained why, after years of spending summers under our roof, you weren’t present and we suddenly seemed to hate you. Hats off to them, Fred and George rose to the occasion magnificently,” she said, grinning. “They informed every soul present what they were going to do to your bits, should they found themselves within reaching distance of them, so convincingly that Death Eaters left the Burrow under the impression that Voldemort would have to wait in line after them to kill you.” 

She laughed, but soon her face was serious again, and hesitated briefly before speaking. “I let the rumours spread when I returned to Hogwarts. I didn’t mind them much as long as they kept me safer. All my friends knew it was all a lie but were smart enough to play along. But no, Harry, I did not move on. And what Zabini said… well, that really hurt me. I am not a whore. I am here with you, because I want to.” 

Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t succumb to them. Harry marvelled at her strength, her daring and her toughness.

“I am the luckiest guy in the world,” and he hold her tightly in his arms, drowning in her flowery scent, kissing her hair… “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” she said simply. 

They held each other for a long while. Nobody interrupted them. Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten; dawn was approaching. Eventually Ginny let go of him, swiping tears from her eyes. She met his gaze and spoke. “Just… please never try to get killed again. When I saw you in the arms of Hagrid…

“I will.”

“Try your hardest, because I know you, Potter. You are not the type who agrees to be left behind and let someone else do the job. And that’s fine by me, as soon as you don’t willingly go looking for trouble.”

Harry snorted. “I’ve said it a million times: I don’t go looking for trouble–”

“Trouble usually finds you, yeah, I know,” she said. “And I want you to remember that I am not the type who steps back, either. Never leave me behind. I can take care of myself.” Her tone was fierce. 

Harry was dazed. “Ginny, you lied to Death Eaters and got away with it; you fought an Imperius, lifted it and incapacitated your attacker; you led Dumbledore’s Army, defied your professors and just yesterday, you took active part in a battle, dueling against Bellatrix Lestrange, no less! If there’s something crystal clear for me is that you need nobody to defend you. If anything, I should be scared of you,” he chuckled. “You are also the daughter of the woman who finished off Bellatrix! Nobody will dare to mess with you!”

Ginny grinned. “Good to know.” She kissed him softly in the lips and cuddled with him. Harry felt a feeling of calm and peace swiftly taking up him. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. It smelled of the flowery scent he loved, and reminded him of good moments from the past, of sunshine days by the lake. He could…

“I could stay like this forever,” she said, reading his mind. 

Harry recalled something. “Aunt Petunia had a framed sentence in the hall. ‘Home is where the heart is’. I used to hate it, because Privet Drive never felt like my home, and they were heartless with me. But now I’m here with you and I can understand it. You have my heart…”

Ginny stroked his hair. “Welcome home, Harry.”


	3. Welcome Home, Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite chapters. Wars are always terrible, but the aftermaths of them can be even worse. My headcanon about the post war situation never included a Harry rolling in Galleons, handing out first range brooms as birthday presents, or living in a great mansion. These characters are still trying to rebuild something that resembles a normal life and struggling to do so. But sometimes all you need is to be with someone you love (and a tin of broom polish can help ;-)

**2003**

“That was a long night,” commented Ginny. 

The two of them were back in bed, sitting comfortably against the pillows. “It was,” agreed Harry. “Which was a small miracle in itself, given our history of epic interruptions. Heck, Ron and George have even made a sport of keeping us apart!” he chuckled.

Ginny snorted. “Oh, that wasn’t a miracle. Didn’t I tell you? At two different times of that night, both Hermione and my mother went down the dormitories’ staircases looking for us. They saw us talking and put charms at the foot of the stairs so nobody could disturb us, then they went up again. They thought we deserved to be alone so we could sort things between us.”

Harry’s affection for Hermione and Molly rose several points. “Remind me to get them something extra nice for Christmas this year, from both of us.”

Ginny giggled. “Already taken care of,” and she dissolved in laughter again.

Harry sighed. This was getting ridiculous. “Did you swallow some kind of cheering potion earlier? What’s up with you giggling today? Look, I know you’ve had a rough season and I reckon you were fairly depressed when it ended. If… if you’re taking potions to treat it, why aren’t you telling me? Perking you up is part of my job description as a husband.” He winked at her. 

If anything, this made Ginny laugh louder. At last, she managed to say: “Oh, Potter, you were only correct on one account. There’s nothing wrong with my moods and I’m not taking cheering potions. But don’t worry, you are _fulfilling_ your job description perfectly.”

“You are driving me mad,” said Harry. 

“Your patience will be rewarded. Now, why don’t you keep on telling me stories?”

“What am I, Scheherazade?” As Ginny only smiled and nodded, he gave up. “Oh, well. Next time you had that look…”

**August 11th, 1998**

“Harry? Harry, wake up!”

Harry was roused from his nightmare by two hands shaking his shoulders. He was sweating, disoriented, his heart was pounding, and it took him a while to recognize the surroundings, and remember why he was there and with who. 

Ginny was looking at him full of concern. “Are you ok? You scared me, you were thrashing and suddenly you yelled.”

Harry did not answer immediately. He gazed at the sky, squinting at the sun. It was mid-afternoon, and they were under the trees at the far side of the Burrow. He shrugged.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you are not. Do not dare to use the word ‘fine’ again with me when it’s clear that you’re not. Want to try again?” Ginny’s voice was severe. 

Harry gaped at her. “You’re not one to beat around the bush, are you?” 

He sat up on the blanket, recalling why he had fallen asleep under the trees in the middle of the day. Molly had enrolled Harry on a mission that consisted in keeping Ginny apart from the Burrow so she could prepare the party. Good moments had been scarce that summer so far, what with the grief and the task of rebuilding something that resembled normalcy. So Molly was determined to throw the big birthday party she thought her daughter deserved on her coming of age, as a sign that life went on. 

But life did not go on well. A few scattered Death Eaters remained at large, and every now and then they attacked random targets. They had been living under the Fidelius at Muriel’s until just a week ago, after the month they spent at Hogwarts, helping to recondition the castle. The Burrow had not been deemed safe enough to return to until then. Grimmauld Place was out of question. Too much work was needed there and nobody could be spared to do it. Harry had asked Kreacher to help Andromeda instead. The elf had steadily refused to be freed so he had suggested it, a little sceptically at first. To everyone’s surprise, the arrangement was working out fairly well. Kreacher had been delighted of taking care of a Black descendant and if Teddy’s Muggle, blood traitor and werewolf heritage bothered him, he simply did not show it.

As Harry had feared, the goblins did not take well his breaking into Gringotts. He, Ron and Hermione were banned from the bank, and his vault was now withheld as collateral. Neither Hermione nor Ron were affected by this, the former because she had all her savings in Muggle money and the latter because he did not have a vault of his own to begin with, but Harry was effectively left as poor as a church mouse. Bill and Fleur, who had returned to work at the bank, had tried to negotiate with the goblins, with little success. They convinced them to stop pressing charges against Harry, Hermione and Ron –the wizarding society would have been in uproar if their heroes were treated as criminals, – but until compensations for repairs were sorted, none of them could set a foot inside Gringotts.

Kingsley had offered to mediate, too, but they had refused. He had enough on his plate. The Aurors’ numbers were greatly depleted after the war, so he had been forced to run the office personally, in addition to his Minister duties. Members of the Order of Phoenix and Dumbledore’s Army had volunteered to help track down Death Eaters, and some of them proved themselves so good that they were offered positions as trainees, overlooking the lack of qualifications, which they could not have got anyway, due to the absence of a normal school year and exams. 

That was the ultimate reason Harry was waking from a nightmare in broad daylight. He, Neville and Ron had spent the last two days on a stakeout at Upper Flagley, where rumours located a possible refuge for Nott and two accomplices. They had come out of it empty handed, physically tired and emotionally exhausted, because they had had to fight a group of Dementors that lurked on a nearby forest. Kingsley had ordered the three trainees and Savage, the Auror in charge, to go home on a well-deserved three days’ break. Which suited Harry perfectly. He had not been able to see Ginny as much as he wanted and he missed her a lot. On the rare occasions they had managed to be alone, it felt like being in an oasis amidst chaos. 

“You haven’t slept this bad in a while, Harry,” she said. 

“I know.” There was a permanent stock of Dreamless Sleep potion in the medicine cabinet of The Burrow, supplied by Molly –she had insisted on being called by her name, as had Arthur– and Hermione, who were the best hands at potions. Everybody was struggling and coped the best they could. Trouble was, the potion was supposed to be used sporadically, as it could be addictive. “I think I am going to use the potion tonight. I need to rest if I am going to work at the Wheezes tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m coming, too. Now that I’m of age, I can help, and George will need all hands on deck if he wants to reopen on Friday. But don’t sidetrack me. Ron told me you were sleeping better lately, so what happened?”

Harry looked at her, slightly amused. “You won’t drop the subject, will you?”

“We agreed to talk about everything that bothered us,” said Ginny. 

It was true. After that long night in Gryffindor’s common room, they had found that confiding in each other worked out in favour of relief. Harry had never been one to share his feelings, but it was easier with Ginny. She knew when to prod him into speaking and when to listen patiently, and frequently offered wise insight, or silent support and a hug if she did not have any. For his part, he tried to do his best to reciprocate. He thought he was lousy at comforting and lacked time to reread what _Twelve Fail-safe Ways to Charm Witches_ said on the matter, but Ginny seemed to appreciate his efforts. 

Harry sighed. “Dementors, that’s what happened. I… I was dreaming of them closing over me. Yesterday, they– I couldn’t… Ron had to cover me. I had trouble casting a Patronus,” he said, not meeting her eye. “I hadn’t cast one since the battle, and back then I nearly couldn’t do it, either. I was embarrassed, and also I worried, what… what if–“

“You’re afraid this means you have a weakness and it could compromise your chance of becoming an Auror?” said Ginny, shrewdly. 

She had hit the nail, again. Surprised, he nodded. “What if I can’t do it anymore? It’s always been hard for me to be near those bloody things, but now it’s even worse!” Harry felt agitated. 

“Remus… he told me in my third year, they affected me more because bad things had happened to me. And now… I’ve been through even worse things since then and I’m having trouble recalling happy memories to make a strong Patronus. I can’t risk being a liability on the field,” he huffed, dropping himself on his back again. He ran his hands over his hair in frustration.

Ginny put a bookmark on his Charms book, closed it and lay down on the blanket at his side, pulling at the pillow he had used to nap so they could share it. She took his hand and squeezed it, but said nothing, looking immersed in thought. 

“Did you know George hasn’t been able to cast a Patronus since the Battle? He went on the Lestrange House raid with Williamson, and they found Dementors watching over prisoners in the cellar. George had to flee, he couldn’t do the charm. Apparently after that he has tried to cast it, to no avail. Hermione thinks there’s a possibility he never will. But…” she chewed her lip.

Harry got up on his elbows and looked at her. “What?”

“After the Chamber, when Dementors searched the Hogwarts Express, you fainted, remember? I didn’t, but it was pretty bad for me, too. It was bloody Riddle all over again, playing with my fears and insecurities. Two years later, when you taught the Patronus at the DA, at first I thought, well, I don’t think I‘m powerful enough to do this, but I did! I had some solid happy memories worth a strong one. At the Battle, on the adrenaline rush, I met some Dementors and could have conjured not a horse, but a whole herd! Of course that was before Voldemort called his minions to retreat and I found out about F-Fred.” She scrunched her face. “And before you disappeared and made me worry like crazy.” She shot him a reproachful look. 

“And your point is…?”, asked Harry. 

“I haven’t tried to cast one since then, so I’m not sure, but I bet you could do with some new nice memories you can hold onto,” she said.

Harry flopped on his back again, looking up at the trees above. “Fat chance of that. Life’s crap. We still don’t dare to go out in case some Death Tosser spots us and tries to kill us. Hermione has postponed going to Australia to find her parents until next summer because she thinks it’s not safe yet to return with them. We haven’t had a free day between Auror training, helping George and another million things; I can’t wait for those foreign volunteer Aurors Kingsley have recruited to begin work, I barely have time to go and see Teddy. And,” he hit the floor with the fist, frustrated, “I’m so broke I could only get you a tin of broom polish for your birthday.”

“Hey, I loved your gift!”, she protested. “It means a lot to me. I like the smell…” She said nothing else, but blushed to the roots of her hair. 

Harry raised his head and watched her, amused and intrigued. “Weasley, your face is like the setting sun. What’s up with the broom polish?”

If possible, Ginny’s face went redder. “It’s embarrassing. You will make fun of me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of. In any case, nothing wrong about a bit of fun,” he winked.

She sat up straight. Harry copied her and sat in front of her, waiting. Ginny hid her face behind her hands and murmured, “I smelled broom polish in the Amortentia at Slughorn’s class.”

Harry was puzzled. “I fail to see the fun in that. I smelled something woodsy, treacle tart, and…” _Oh_. He felt his cheeks warming up. 

Now it was Ginny’s turn to wink at him. “I will say mine if you tell me yours, Potter.”

He blushed harder, but accepted the dare. “Fine. The scent of your soap.” Ginny snickered, and he complained. “Hey, don’t! Now it’s your turn!”

Ginny groaned and concealed her face again. Harry nudged her gently with his foot. “Be brave, Weasley.”

She took a deep breath, let her hands fall and stared at him in the eye. “Broom polish, the Burrow’s herb garden, and _you_.”

“Me? How do I smell? I don’t use cologne, or…”

Ginny shook her head, still looking like a tomato. “It’s how you… smell after Quidditch practice.”

Harry felt the warmth in his cheeks spreading down his body. “And… you like it?”

Ginny nodded. “Do you remember the night of the Battle? When you went past me on the way to the Forest, I thought I sensed you, remember? In fact… I smelled you. I couldn’t see anything, so I blamed the exhaustion. But it really was you. And… yes, believe it or not, it may be because of the association with Quidditch, and all the good moments we’ve spent flying together, but there’s nothing that turns me on more than you after practice.” She had said all this with her chin up, looking at him with a gleam in her eyes, as if daring him to tease her.

He did not. The thought that he could arouse such feelings in her was intoxicating and did funny things to his body. Dazedly, he closed the space between them, took her in his arms, and kissed her. Ginny responded with such heat that they ended up in a tangle over the blanket, until the sound of something moving not far broke them apart. 

“If one of my bloody brothers bloody dares…” panted Ginny. She scanned the surroundings, relaxing when she saw a rabbit running away. “Just a bunny,” she exhaled. She looked at Harry mischievously. “Where were we?”

“I believe we were making some new, powerful memories, Weasley.” _Fucking hot new ones_ , he thought. 

Ginny grinned. “I need to stock up on them, too. In three weeks I’ll be at Hogwarts and Merlin knows I’m going to miss you.”

That put a damper on Harry’s mood. “I wish I could go with you, Gin. But…”

“Shhhhh,” she said, putting a finger on his lips. “We’ve talked about this. You have to stay. Auror training dries you up, but you feel good doing it, as does helping George. Besides, you and Ron need the gold. I, on the other hand, have to return to Hogwarts if I want a chance to be scouted for professional Quidditch. A few NEWTs won’t hurt, either. Hermione and I will look after each other. You and Ron can each take care of the other, too.” Something made her pause. A smile flickered in her face. 

“Talking about my prat of a brother… did he have trouble with the Patronus?”

Harry did not particularly want to talk about Ron. His hands stroked her arms, but she slapped them away playfully. He sighed. “No. None at all. Pretty smug, he was about it. I asked how he had managed it, but the git wouldn’t tell me. Why do you want to know?”

“Because something Hermione said made me wonder…” She looked at a faraway point and did not elaborate. Harry felt the moment slipping away, when all of a sudden Ginny got up, pulled out her wand and began to wave it, running in a circle. He recognized the Muffliato and some of the protective charms they used to cast on the run. 

“What on earth… Gin, where did you learn this?” asked a perplexed Harry. 

“Hermione.” She finished casting around, pointed her wand at the floor and conjured another soft, fluffy pillow. The sight of them made Harry suddenly nervous. 

Ginny sat down at his side. She put a hand in his cheek, stroking it tenderly. Then she kissed him slowly, softly. Harry closed his eyes, allowing his other senses to enjoy the moment. The touch of her lips, their sweet taste, her scent, the sound of the breeze in the leaves… it was overwhelming. 

She broke the kiss. Harry opened his eyes, and let himself drown on Ginny’s hard, blazing look. Somehow it made him feel emboldened, nervous and expectant at the same time. 

“Let’s make some new worthy memories, Harry,” she said. 

And with a swift movement, she took off her shirt.


	4. She Took Off Her Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be a little disappointing. I'm sorry, but no explicit sex is going to be found in the story. I'm comfortable with allusions and innuendos –and had a lot of fun researching info about them- but I feel embarrassed even writing a heated kiss (I'm no prude, I just can't)
> 
> The chapter is super short, but I wasn’t inspired to make it longer, and I didn't like resolving the cliffhanger just after it. 
> 
> A BIG THANK YOU to all of you who are reading this story, and an extra one to those of you who take your time to leave a review. Folks, you are wonderful.

**2003**

“The moment I took off that shirt, I felt I was losing my virginity,” recalled Ginny. 

Harry looked at her, amused. “ _Technically_ , that happened more than a year later. Back that day, we only ditched clothes and…”

“Sex is much more than coitus, darling,” interrupted Ginny. She stretched in the bed before resuming her speech. “That day marked the first of many firsts and it _was_ sex, even if we did ‘nothing,’ “ she made the quote signs in the air. “And you behaved like a gentleman, letting me take the lead in all of them. For me, taking off that shirt was a big deal.”

“For me it was a big step, too,” said Harry. “I had my own issues about taking clothes off, if you recall the night at Gryffindor common room. Besides, after what Zabini did to you, I was terrified of hurting you in any way. So I vowed not to push you into any form of intimacy and wait until you felt ready. And I don’t regret it.”

Ginny turned to look at him. “Did you read it in that book Ron gave you on your birthday?” She smiled and winked. 

“How did you know about it?” asked Harry. “And no! I figured that out on my own. Besides, I think women should always take the lead in sex. If things go south, consequences are worse for you… well, they can be, er… I don’t know how to explain myself.” He let out a big breath. 

“You don’t need to. You’ve always been sweet.” Ginny planted a kiss on his cheek. “Luckily for both of us, I inherited the randy genes of the Prewett side of my family, or we would have been still holding hands and kissing on the lips,” she giggled. 

“These days I take the initiative, too. I learned from the best.” Ginny shot him an alarmed look. “You, of course,” he said, chuckling. He began to tickle her. She laughed and fought him until she got off. 

“I learned from the best, too,” she replied, catching her breath. “Fleur.”

“And I thank her for that,” said Harry. “It still amazes me how you two went from despising each other to getting on so well. Not that I’m complaining,” he smirked.

“It’s called sorority. Nothing makes you bond with another person like being attacked by Death Eaters on a wedding day. Fleur put herself in front of Gabrielle and me. She tried to defend me like a true sister. On the days that followed, she offered words of comfort. It’s only natural I turned to her for sex advice. Hermione and Luna are great, but Fleur outsmarts them in the matter.”

“Too true. You really surprised me on the night we _technically_ did it. There I was, sneaking into Harpies quarters under the Cloak, up for some innocent snogging and cuddling–“ Ginny snorted as she heard that, “–and you practically assaulted me!” Harry feigned being scandalized. 

Ginny snorted again. “Oh, come on. It’s not my fault if the Harpies have an excellent potioneer in the Healing team. Every month they gave out Contraceptive Concoction freely. All my mates took it, well, the straight ones at least, so what was I supposed to do? Refusing it would have been like saying ‘hey girls, I’m dating Harry Potter but we’re not shagging’. No way I was doing that. So I figured I might as well take it. Forgot to tell you, but I don’t recall you complaining afterwards. Quite the contrary,” she said playfully. 

“You should have warned me. I carried Muggle condoms in my pocket, to be prepared, just in case, and I didn’t even have time to fish out one. Until you told me about the potion, I was terrified I could knock you up.” Ginny shook with laughter. Harry sighed. “Oh, not again.”

He resigned himself to wait until the laughing subsided. Eventually Ginny sobered up and asked him: “And what are those _condums_ things?”

Harry blushed. He tried to hide it while racking his brains trying to come up with the best way to explain it, but Ginny was no fool. 

“Hmm, Potter, I think I can tell there’s a good story behind that _condim_ stuff.” She winked at him.

“There’s one indeed, Weasley, but it is a long one and it doesn’t involve your blazing look, so Scheherazade here will keep it for another occasion.” And before she could protest, he quickly added, “Condoms are little, er… _raincoats_ for the… well, you know…” Ginny doubled over in laughter again.

“Oh, please, tell me,” she said, wiping tears. “For the love wand? Custard launcher? The Fun-tastic stick? The flesh fiddle?”

Harry frowned. “You know perfectly well what a condom is, don’t you? You just love teasing me. Am I right, Weasley?”

“Oh, I only wanted to see you struggling for avoiding saying penis,” she said. “Of course I know what a condom is. Some of my teammates have dated Muggle boys. Condoms are useful for avoiding STDs as well as pregnancies so they used them in addition to the potion. The wizarding equivalent is a spell, but you can’t cast it in front of an unsuspecting Muggle, so it’s the best option for one-night stands with them.” Harry gaped at her. “Oh, don’t look me like that. The Harpies’ locker room is a real school for life. I just never considered using it because I knew neither of us had been intimate with another person, so the Concoction was enough… or so I thought…” She nearly whispered the last part.

“You thought… wh–“ 

But Ginny changed the subject. “One thing I want to know, did I have that famous look of mine on that night?”

“How could I know?” he said. ”It was dark, remember?” 

“Oh, it’s true. Damned Florence! I swear she could detect a privacy charm in her sleep. She’s the main reason I hated living at the quarters. So, after my birthday, when was the next time?”

Harry looked down. “Hogsmeade trip, Halloween.” He saw Ginny stiffen. “When you broke up with me.”


	5. When You Broke Up With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't really think their relationship was going to be uneventful after the Battle, did you?
> 
> Nah, even the most stable couples have had bumps along the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t bring myself to write the ditching scene, so there is no flashback. But I consider it essential, because war veterans or not, Harry and Ginny were still a young couple who were learning to love and maturing in the process.
> 
> This chapter contains my first OC. Hope you like Lola!

**2003**

A heavy silence followed Harry’s words. It seemed that neither of them felt inclined to recall the episode; the playful mood had vanished. Finally, Ginny broke it. 

“I still feel bad for that. I was stupid and naive, and I hurt you so much. I know you buried the whole issue, but I haven’t forgiven myself,” she said, picking at lint in the sheets.

Harry hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “You’re being ridiculous. Both of us were stupid and naive. We were stressed; we dealt poorly with separation and I failed at keeping in touch with you. Add Skeeter to the mix and… the conflict was inevitable.”

“Hermione and Ron had the same troubles but they didn’t break up,” said Ginny. “Rowed like mad, I admit, but always made up. Quite noisily, I might say.” She scrunched her nose in disgust. “You’d think the Head Girl would remember to cast a Muffliato.”

“Or to lock a door,” he chuckled. “Those two have always been a little careless when they let their hot heads take command. The number of times I walked in on them when we were living at George’s flat…” He shuddered. “I ended up taking the Floo to the shop and announcing my presence stomping up the stairs every time I got back home.”

He glanced at Ginny, who for once did not look inclined to take part in further berating their best friends. “A Knut for your thoughts,” he said. 

“I’ve always made fun of Ronald’s immaturity and, well, he’s still a prat, of course, but was I better than him? In the face of adversity, I chose to leave you, too.”

“In the face of adversity, I had ditched you before, remember?”

“But that was you being stupidly noble and it did serve your purpose: I was safer. I was simply stupidly worried, madly stressed and insanely jealous. Quite a difference,” she said. 

“If I hadn’t neglected writing to you, you wouldn’t have been worried or jealous. I’m afraid your captaincy duties and Hermione’s revising schedule are to be blamed for the stress. What was she thinking, beginning to revise in September?” he huffed. “She’s lucky I didn’t return to Hogwarts. Would’ve Confunded her every other day into believing I had revised.”

“Well, thanks to her, I achieved five NEWTs. Not that the Harpies asked me for them, but one day they’ll come in handy. Anyway, jealousy is crap. I’m ashamed I believed Skeeter’s shit about you and Lola. She was so glamorous, and I was so insecure, I truly thought I couldn’t compete with someone like her.” Colour tinted her cheeks as she said that. 

“There never was any competition. On our first assignment, she looked down at me and said she wasn’t going to change my nappies. Wasn’t even impressed by the whole Voldemort thing,” he recalled.

Lola Amaya had been a tough but fair mentor and that had suited Harry perfectly. He was already sick of people treating him differently because of all the _‘Boy Who Lived Once Again’_ crap. She was one of the foreign Aurors that answered Kingsley’s international petition for help. The daughter of a Spanish Roma wizard and a Welsh witch who was traveling on her gap year and never went farther than Granada, her CV was as impressive as her looks. And Rita Skeeter had had a field day when she found about the dark-haired beauty that Harry seemed to follow everywhere. 

“If anything, I should have been the one worried about competing with her for you! When she got wind of our break up, I distinctly recall her saying that if you weren’t so bloody gorgeous, she would’ve gone to Hogwarts to try and knock some sense into you. I think she meant the knocking part literally,” he chuckled. 

“You should’ve let her. Maybe then we wouldn’t have spent the rest of the school year acting like bloody teenagers,” she said, annoyed. 

Harry felt exasperated. “Ginny, we _were_ teenagers. Teenagers who were learning to have a relationship while dealing with post war stress, separation and mourning among other things. I was so overworked I didn’t write you for days at a time. We had not seen each other since you left for school. Then I got injured and you had to find out from the press, which made it look like I was having an affair with my mentor. If that had happened today, you would’ve Bat Bogey Hexed me into next year and gone to do the same to Skeeter, and then we would have returned home and we’d have made chocolate gateau. But that’s because we have learned from the past. And anyway,” he grinned, “you have to admit, those months apart were also kind of sweet and funny.”

Ginny groaned. “Nothing funny about having Dean drooling around me like a puppy begging to be scratched. Until I hexed him during practice, it was insufferable. Mind you, at least that made him focus on the game the rest of the year.”

“You think that’s insufferable? You try to go on a blind date with your cousin Daisy. I don’t know what was Ron thinking, arranging it. Why on earth did I accept? It was worse than the one with Cho, and that’s saying something,” he said.

“He did it on purpose. Ron gave me hell for ditching you. He made a mission of getting us back together. He had no intention of letting you move on, so he consciously arranged the whole thing knowing it would be a fiasco and made you miss me more.” She snickered. “What did you love the most, the fact that she had bought the same glasses you wore, or the dessert she had ordered with your names written on the icing?”

“No, that was lame, compared to the fact that she had tipped the reporters and our date was featured in Witch Weekly the following day. That spoiled any future plans for dating anyone, for good. Which probably was Ron’s intention all along, now that I come to think of it,” admitted Harry. “Although I wouldn’t put it past George to be responsible for the press tip, it sounds like his idea of a prank. But let’s talk about awkwardness. I was not the one who seemed to be eleven again on Christmas break…” He did not finish the sentence, but looked devilishly at her. 

“Oh, Merlin, that Christmas Day at the Burrow.” In spite of the memory, she smiled at last. 

“You put your elbow in the gravy boat when I talked to you. Priceless.”

“Ha! What about you, sneaking into my bedroom to leave broom polish as a secret gift?”

“You never told me if you liked it,” said Harry. 

“It took all I had to not going downstairs and snog the daylights out of you,” she admitted, blushing. “Now, about embarrassing things: you signed up for Hogsmeade watch every time we had a trip!” accused Ginny.

“Yes, and I persuaded McGonagall to have an Auror squad at every Quidditch match, and, oh, guess who was on duty every time Gryffindor played!” said Harry, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ginny shook with laughter. “You could get away with murder with McGonagall’s blessing, she can’t say no to you. Her face when we finally made up! I don’t think I had seen her shed a tear until that moment.”

“You had _the look_ on you again,” said Harry, “although it lasted the moment it took you to fly into the stands and jump on me.”

Ginny laughed out. “What a scene. McGonagall, waiting to give the Quidditch Cup to the team, crying of joy. Ron and George catcalling, and weirdest of all, my mother telling Hermione to pay up! They had a bet running on when we were going to get back together!”

“They weren’t the only ones. Savage won the bet at Auror headquarters. I know because he used the money to go on a date with Lola and she told me.”

“But I thought she liked women? Didn’t she go out with Callie? Or was it Gretchen?”

“Gretchen, actually, but she beats for both teams,” he said. “Good old Lola. We should pay her a visit, she wrote to invite us to Ronda. She’s stationed there, something about rogue Red Caps from the Civil War battlefields and mass graves, attacking hikers on the hills. Nonetheless, she says the city itself is beautiful and we’re welcome to stay at her house.”

Ginny hummed in appreciation. “I’d love to go to Spain. We haven’t been back since our honeymoon. It’s a pity the Harpies moved summer training camp from Almeria to Bulgaria. Viktor can say whatever he wants but I prefer the beaches at Spain. And the food!”

“It’s settled, then. I’ll send her an owl later to tell we’re visiting,” he said.

“Better now than later,” she muttered, and giggled one more time. 

Harry sighed. “Ginny, are you going to tell me what’s up with you? I’m tired of this game.”

Ginny turned to look at him, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Not a chance. Tell me another story, Scheherazade.”

“Ha, ha.” He rubbed his eyes. “Well, not much left now. Next time was more than a year later, on that night at St. Mungo’s…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N. I’m aware that Bulgaria has magnificent beaches. But I’m Spanish, so… ;-) In canon, Harry is still friends with Krum years later, so I thought that Harry and Ginny might have visited Bulgaria more than once.
> 
> Ronda is a real village in southern Spain, near Malaga. In Spanish Civil War, blood was shed in abundance in both sides of combatants. That’s why I located the rogue Red Caps there. Sadly, it’s not the only place in my country where they could exist, but at least, it’s true that the city is beautiful and worth a visit.
> 
> Although it is now used as an independent name, in origin Lola was a nickname for Dolores, which means ‘pains’. Lola Amaya is severe and tough, like Dolores Umbridge, but the similarities end there. Lola suggests a younger, fair personality, while Dolores suggests seniority, severity… Umbridge. :-) 
> 
> My current WIP is a spin-off of this chapter, it tells the story of 'those months apart' and its provisional title is Little Iron Soldier. Stay tuned!


	6. On That Night At St. Mungo’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooops... another bump in the road.
> 
> Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback. This was going to be another Monster Chapter but it worked best split in two smaller ones. It was really funny writing it. 
> 
> The new OC is loosely based on myself: the sentence about the tears and bogies is one of my mottos. I also believe there is real magic in words, laughs and physical contact. Even Muggles can do a bit of magic :-)

**St. Mungo’s, June 2000**

_She disappeared in the dense fog. “Ginny!” he screamed._

_“You can’t help her,” Hermione said._

_He turned to face the voice, but it was not his friend’s: out of the fog, a tall, black robed figure was drawing a wand on him, and he had a pale face with slits for nostrils…_

“Harry, wake up, it’s a dream…”

_“Harry Potter, come to me…”_

“It’s not real…”

_“And die…”_

“HARRY!”

He woke up gasping for air, reaching for his wand, only to see the worried face of Ginny Weasley looking at him, her hands gripping his arms. _She is here, she’s real_ , was all he could think. Harry allowed himself to get lost in her chocolate eyes, and after a moment he began to relax. 

“You scared me, Harry,” said Ginny. 

“Sorry, it was a bad dream–“

“I wasn’t referring to that. I’m talking about _this_ ,” and she made a sweeping gesture in the general direction of the surroundings. 

Only then did Harry realize that he was not in his bed at George’s flat, or even at the Burrow. The room had a dull, impersonal quality. Several vials of potions were lined on a bedside cabinet and a chart hung on the wall… _Oh, Merlin. Crap. St. Mungo’s._

Memories flooded back to him: Avery, cornered in an old family house, had put up a fight. Harry had used Reducto to block a curse he had sent their way. It had worked, but had also caused the room to collapse in. He had no recollection at all of what had happened after that. He tried to sit up, and an intense wave of dizziness followed by nausea, prevented him from doing so. His head was pounding, but in a somewhat muffled way. He raised a hand and touched the turban-like bandages that covered it. 

“What happened to me?” he asked, flopping down back on the bed. 

“I’d love to know myself,” she said sarcastically. “Nobody is bloody ‘authorized to disclose information on his state, sorry, miss’. I’m here only because they recognized me from the press and a nice Healer took pity on me, but still, she wouldn’t say anything because for some reason, I’m nobody to you!” Ginny looked now positively mad. 

“Why wouldn’t they tell you? You’re my–”

“Doesn’t matter to them. According to your file, only my brother Ron is listed as next of kin, and as he’s currently admitted as a patient here and has yet to regain consciousness–“ Harry gasped and tried to sit up again, only to be stopped by Ginny. “Don’t worry! He’ll be all right, he only got hit at the head, Lola told me. But when she was going to tell me what happened, she got an urgent owl from Kingsley and ran to the Ministry. So I don’t know anything.” She punched lightly his arm. “You promised to me you wouldn’t go looking for trouble!”

“Gin, you know trouble always finds me, so I figured I could make a living out of it, didn’t I?” He exhaled a breath he did not know he was holding. “Did we catch Avery? That bastard was behind a dozen attacks.”

“I’ve no clue. All I can tell you is that I dropped in at the Burrow after training, and while I was there my parents got an owl. ‘As the next of kin listed as emergency contact, you are hereby informed that Ronald B. Weasley has been admitted as a patient in our hospital.’ I knew you were together on an assignment, so the fact that it was an owl and not you the one bringing such news alarmed me. We came here and a Healer took us to see Ron, but he wouldn’t say anything about you! I was mad, the git wouldn’t even tell us if you were here or not. So I think I was being a bit loud voicing my dissatisfaction–“ Harry snorted as he heard this, “–oh, right, I was in a bit of a temper– don’t roll your eyes! Ok, I was furious, wasn’t I? I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, you go and try to keep calm, Harry Potter! The only thing that stops me from cursing you into next year is the fact that it could mess up your recovery! What were you thinking, not listing me as emergency contact? Even my prat of a brother put my parents AND Hermione! So, explain!”

“But you eventually got here, didn’t you? No harm done,” he said. 

Had he been all right and not just woken up after a head trauma, he could have seen the storm coming. As it was, it exploded just in front of him. 

“NO HARM DONE? I’ve been scared sick, Potter! Can’t you imagine what it was like for me and my parents, not knowing if you were alive or dead? All because you couldn’t be bothered to add our names to a fucking emergency list! I nearly hexed half the staff here because they wouldn’t tell me anything! You must be grateful Lola arrived and stopped me from doing something crazy! And then, all she said before having to go to the Ministry was that you were here and that she thought you might be ok! If it weren’t for that Healer, I’d still be waiting in the corridor, worrying sick, hoping for Ron or you to wake up and allow me to see you! Do not dare to act like it’s no big deal, because it is!” she yelled.

Her hair was loose, her face was red with rage, and her eyes were wild. And just when it looked like she was going to resume her tirade, she suddenly broke up crying. Ginny covered her face with her hands, sat in the bed and turned her back to Harry, as if trying to hide her grief from him. 

“Gin…” he called. 

She did not react. Harry did not try again to get her attention. This was not a moment for words, so he gritted his teeth, took a deep breath and struggled to sit up in the bed. He managed to fight the dizziness, breathing evenly in and out with his eyes closed, until he felt it subsiding. Then he took Ginny in his arms. She turned and clung tightly to him, crying on his shoulder. Harry said nothing. It had taken the aftermath of a war, but he no longer felt uncomfortable with tears, nor did he try to stop them. Ginny was right to be furious with him. After their breakup and reconciliation a year ago, he had internally vowed to never hide major information from her. And now a tiny detail like emergency contacts had made him fail on his promise, and she had suffered for it- …again. The memory of the circumstances of their last fall out came to his brain, and he felt a heavy weight of dread taking hold of his chest. Too many similarities to ignore a possible outcome.

Gradually, Ginny’s sobs faded, and Harry knew it was the moment to talk. “I’m sorry, Gin, I mean it. I filled out the application for the Aurors before you were due to return to Hogwarts. I didn’t want to bother and worry you with split lips and cuts while you were there, so I talked to Ron. He had come to the same conclusion regarding Hermione, so we agreed to leave both of you out while you were at school, and I wrote down your brother’s name on the emergency list. We relied on each other to warn you girls if there was something important. Never occurred to us that we could be both injured and incapable of doing so. After the… _incident_ in October, I thought about including you, but then we broke up and… Well, you know. When we got back together, I just forgot the damned list. I’m sorry you had a bad time. I know what it must’ve been for you.”

Ginny muttered something, but it came out muffled because she still had her face against his chest. 

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Ginny leaned back and glared at him. “I said that if you ever make me go through something like this again, I’ll be the one to give you more than a split lip,” she answered. 

“Can’t say I don’t deserve it,” he chuckled. 

Ginny looked about to deliver another angry retort when suddenly the door opened, letting a lime green-robed figure into the room. She sprang apart from him. “Oh, Healer O’Reilly! Sorry I didn’t call you, I was going to, he just woke up.”

The newcomer looked as Irish as Harry resembled a nun. With her ebony skin, broad nose and wiry black curls that escaped from a head wrap, she was clearly of African origin or parentage. _This must be the Healer who let Ginny stay with me_ , he thought. The witch smiled broadly at Ginny, and dismissed her apology with a hand gesture. 

“No worries, darling. I was more worried for you than for my patient, who I will attend in a minute, by the way,” she said, glancing briefly at Harry. O’Reilly stopped in front of Ginny, took her hands and inspected her critically. “Hmm. Allow me, darling.” And without waiting response, she began to wave her right hand before Ginny’s face, humming something at the same time and keeping hold of her other hand. 

Harry had not seen anything like that in his whole life. Under the Healer’s ministrations, Ginny visibly relaxed, her shoulders losing their rigidity, her features softening. The blotched face and red-rimmed eyes disappeared. The witch cocked her head to the side, observed her work for a moment and smiled again. “Now darling, that’s better. You fine? I could give you some drops of Calming Draught, but you could do without the drowsiness after such an adventurous night. A cup of tea will be much better, don’t you think?” She squeezed Ginny’s hand with affection, before directing her attention to Harry. 

“Now dear, you are another matter. But first, let’s go over some red tape. Are you able to give me consent to discuss your personal information in front of this fine young lady? Not that I’d mind to do so, but I overlooked some rules when I let her stay with you and it’s best if we follow procedures from now on, do you agree?”

Harry closed his mouth, which he did not noticed he had it open in surprise, and cleared his throat. “I– Well, yes, of course! Gin –that is, Ginevra Molly Weasley–, she’s my girlfriend. I would like to add her name to the emergency contacts list, too. Could you do it? Oh, and could you please inform the rest of the Weasley family of my state? They must be worried.”

“I’ll see to it. But no visitors other than this lady for today. Very well, let’s check you… I fixed your fractures, minimized the head trauma, healed cuts and bruises –heavens, you were scarred already enough¬– and let you sleep. You need to drink some potions now. I’ll have you under observation today and then if everything’s all right, I’ll discharge you tomorrow with recommendations for home rest for at least a fortnight. After that, I advise you to take it easy. No fieldwork this summer. Catch up on your files, interrogate the baddies, whatever. And please go on holiday: your partner told me it’s been ages since you had a free day. It makes sense: I can practically feel the stress and tension rolling off you.” She said all this while feeling Harry’s head over the bandages, checking his pulse, looking into his eyes and finally taking his hands in hers, like she had done with Ginny. She gazed calmly at him, and Harry began to feel curiously peaceful. Whatever magic she was using, Merlin knew how, it was working. 

“We’ve been working tirelessly to bring down Avery and his accomplices,” he said.”I don’t know if I can be on leave, Avery might have ran off…”

“He didn’t,” interrupted O’Reilly. “Your mentor, Amaya, that was her name, wasn’t it? She told me it was over. She did not offer details and I did not ask either, but it sounded like a closed case. So, young man, by the authority invested on me by this institution, you are going to follow my orders at home or I won’t sign your authorization for resuming fieldwork. First of all, potions time!” She released Harry’s hands and waved in the direction of the bedside cabinet. Two potions zoomed straight to her hands. One of them was Skele-Gro. 

Harry groaned. “Oh, no. Not rotten fungus again.”

The Healer snickered while measuring the dose. “How on earth would you know how rotten fungus tastes?”

“Long story,” answered Harry. He heard Ginny snorting. Harry swallowed the potion and grimaced. “Nobody bothered to improve the flavour of these things?”

“Medicines have to taste like piss, otherwise people would abuse even more of them,” said the witch, totally unfazed. She thrusted the second potion on his hands. Harry obliged, and the Healer nodded and smiled again. Harry felt the already muffled headache fading away. O’Reilly snapped her fingers, and the chart flew to her side. She scribbled some notes, returned the chart to its place on the wall with another hand gesture, and turned to face the two of them. 

“I will send tea and a light breakfast in a moment. Do not eat or drink more than you feel up to. Have this young lady call me if you have dizziness, nausea, any other trouble at all. I’ll be back in two hours to help you out of that bed. Any questions?”

Harry could not contain his curiosity. “How do you do it?”

The Healer laughed. Harry grinned as well; the good-naturedness of that woman was infectious. 

“How do I do what, darling?”

“You don’t use a wand, yet you perform magic. I’ve never seen anything like that. Well, except Dumbledore, but you know, he was Dumbledore.”

“Oh, I too have a wand!” O’Reilly produced one out of a pocket and showed it to them. “I bought it at Ollivander’s, first time I came to England. Took him ages to find one that chose me!” She laughed again, and this time Harry and Ginny joined her, it was impossible not to. “I’m Namibian, young man. In Africa, you are taught to feel your magic, tame, channel and use it with your bare hands. Of course, if you have a wand you can perform quicker, maybe more accurate spells, so that’s why I traveled here after graduating Uagadou. To learn. It’s nice to be able to have the best of two worlds, yet I favour wandless work, because it’s more in my nature doing so, and because physical contact is a kind of magic in itself, one that even Muggles can do.” She stared at Ginny, took again one of her hands, and patted it. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

“I think I know what you mean,” said Ginny. 

“Of course you do, you’re a bright young lady, aren’t you, and deeply in love.” Ginny blushed to the roots of her hairs. “That’s why I sneaked you in here last night. Nobody should be alone, and the next of kin was knocked out with a lump in his head the size of a Chimaera egg. Occidental people can be so shy of physical contact, don’t you think? Can’t understand it. When I saw your despair, I knew you were my patient, too. I brought you here so you could be healed and help to heal.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, Healer O’Reilly. I’m sorry I got you into trouble,” said Ginny. “If there’s something I can do…”

“Oh, no harm done, darling, I’ll deal with old Miller, the supervisor. He’s a softie, and loves my fat cakes. He knows better than to argue with me,” she chuckled. “But there’s a tiny something you can do for me. My husband is a big Quidditch fan. Big, like, you know, he succeeded to make it a family thing, meeting up to listen to matches on the wireless. My Patty would be over the moon if you signed something for him.”

“Oh, I’ll be delighted!” said Ginny. “Wait, you said it’s a family thing? How large is your family?”

“Large as a classical Irish one, dear,” the Healer chuckled. “We have six children, all grown up. Bit difficult to get them reunited for a match, but that’s life, little birds always grow and fly off the nest. I still have my Patrick, and he has me. Never regretted the day I stayed here to live with him.”

“It must’ve been hard, leaving your loved ones in Africa,” observed Harry. 

“I lost my immediate family to war. My extended one took good care of me, and yes, I miss them and visit as often as I can. But my Patty took my heart, and you know the saying! He’s my home, and he loves me to pieces. It has been worth it. It would’ve been worth only for seeing people do a double take when they hear my name, God, it’s priceless!” She laughed out loud. “Pat didn’t ask me to take his name, but I did it just for saving me a great amount of spelling out my maiden one.”

The witch amazed Harry. She had lost family like him, she had left the rest on another continent, adapted to a culture totally strange to her, and she laughed and joked about it. He looked at Ginny; she was staring at the Healer and had a decided expression on her face. 

“Expect something better than an autograph for your husband, madam. If I can manage it, the next family reunion will be for a live match. It’s the least I can do,” said Ginny. 

“Oh, dear, you don’t have to! But I won’t lie, we would have the time of our lives if you did,” she laughed. “Oh my, I must go. Miller is right; my worst fault is that I love chatting people up. But it’s another kind of magic, isn’t it? Talking and laughing. Remember: no matter how tragic the cause of your tears is, you always end up blowing out your bogies. I’ll see you later! Breakfast will appear over that table in a bit. Bye-bye!” she said in a singsong voice, and left the room. 

Harry and Ginny were left gaping at the closed door. A faint pop at their backs made them jump out of their trance: as promised, a tray with a tea service for two and some toast had appeared over a table. Ginny ran to it and busied herself pouring two cups of tea. 

“She’s great, don’t you think?” she said. 

“Truly amazing,” answered Harry. But the cheerful atmosphere seemed to have departed with the Healer. They stayed in silence while Ginny helped him again into a sitting position on the bed, arranging the pillows to be comfortable. The pain and nausea had disappeared completely, and Harry found he was a little hungry. He accepted a cup of tea and some toast from her, and they sat eating in silence for a while. Ginny looked immersed in thought, sparing occasional glances to him, but she did not break it. When it began to be uncomfortable, Harry racked his brains for something to say.

“Whoever said breakfast in bed was romantic, I bet they didn’t have this in mind,” he joked.

Ginny scowled at him from the top of the teacup she was drinking from. “It’s not exactly how I had planned to spend my free day.” She set the cup on the saucer. “Have you finished?”

Harry nodded, feeling nervous. Ginny no longer looked as angry as before, but she was not herself either, and Harry began to dread the direction of her next words. Memories of that Halloween in Hogsmeade came unbidden to him and the slice of toast suddenly felt like a heavy stone inside him. 

“I don’t want to go through something like this again, Harry,” she said.

Cold chills of fear ran through his body. “You won’t, I mean, I can’t promise I won’t get hurt again, I’ll do my best to help it, of course, but Gin, this is my job, I’m good at it, and it’s one of the things that keeps me going on. And you’re another, and I need you too. Don’t ask me to leave my job for you, please. Or…”

“I wouldn’t ask you to drop out of the Aurors, Harry,” she interrupted. “Your job is part of what you are now and this” –she waved at the room– “comes in a package with it, no matter what I think of it. But I won’t be treated again like last night.”

“It won’t happen again, I added your name to the list…” His voice had a desperate note. 

“It isn’t enough. I’m talking about everything, Harry. We barely see each other. I live at Holyhead’s team residence; you live with George and Ron. I’m tired of hiding and lying to be alone with you. Tired of scraping free time between my training, matches and travels and your work, your assignments and George’s shop. My parents love you, but they’re not as open minded as Hermione’s, they won’t let us sleep together while we are under their roof. And now you get hurt and I’m treated like I am nobody, like you have no family!” 

She got up from the bed and began to pace the room. “No, it’s the last drop, Harry. We can’t carry on like this, we feel miserable, I know you do too. I see only one way ahead, and I know what I have to do.” 

She stopped in her tracks, and stared at him. Then she went to sit again on the bed, facing him. Harry met her gaze and felt his heart sink. There it was: the hard, blazing look he had grown to love and fear at the same time. That look could bring the best or the worst. 

But then she took his hands in hers, and goosebumps erupted all over his skin. He felt warmth creeping up his arms, and suddenly all fear vanished. Ginny took a deep breath, and spoke. 

“Harry James Potter, do you want to marry me?”


	7. Do You Want To Marry Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question has been popped!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say that this Ginny is a bit like me. I hate big show proposals, I hate that a woman has to wait for a man to do it, and I don’t hate jewellery but I almost never wear it, not even my wedding ring. I know that my headcanons are a bit peculiar. Still, I hope you like what I’ve done with them.

**St. Mungo’s, June 2000**

“Harry? Do you hear me?”

“I do,” answered a dumbfounded Harry, and no sooner had he said the words than he realized they could be misinterpreted. “I mean, I do hear you, not I do want to marry you–“ Ginny immediately looked hurt, so he quickly amended, “No, I didn’t mean I won’t marry you! Of course I will! I love you, it’s just… it was the shock! I thought you were going to break up with me and… Merlin!” he let out a big huff, “I’m so relieved, but I never expected… Marriage! Are… are you sure?”

“I am. I’m not going to ditch you, Potter. I’m quite fond of you, and I have learned from past errors. The time we spent apart was the worst of my life, so I guess I’m stuck with you for the rest of it. Why not do it official?” said Ginny, smiling.

Harry opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of the water. “But… but…?”

“What? While you were sleeping, I spent the major part of the night thinking over it, and I think it’s the perfect solution! And anyway, it’s not like I’ve just had the idea. I’ve been pondering it since I found out that Genevieve was going to announce her retirement this summer.”

“Genevieve? What’s she got to do with this?” 

“Because one of the cottages reserved for married players is going to be free.”

_Oh_. Harry immediately understood the implications. Due to the Harpies’ strict policy about personal life of the players, they were bound by contract to live either at the team’s staff quarters, if they were single, or at one of the little cottages near the stadium, if they were in a stable relationship. This was supposed to reinforce the team’s familiar, hardworking, scandal-free reputation. Being the only all-female team of the League meant they attracted unwanted attention from reporters who pried into the private lives of the players and nobody wanted that. So Ginny had shared a bedroom with Grace, the reserve Seeker, since she left Hogwarts and got signed by the Harpies. While the two got on well enough, Harry knew that Ginny hated living under the quarters’ rules, which included curfew, meals schedule and Florence the caretaker, who rivalled Filch in nosiness. Ginny always complained she had had enough of all that after seven years at Hogwarts.

But marriage seemed a commitment too strong for somebody so young as them… Of course, Harry had dreamed with it, even toyed with the idea of bringing it up with her, but he had always placed it somewhere in a distant future. Gringotts had yet to lift the ban that prevented him from accessing his vault, the issue of compensations still not resolved because apparently, nobody could put a price to a guardian dragon. He earned enough from his work at the Ministry and his occasional help at Wheezes to live and save gold for buying a house, but he was far from affording it yet. Or a ring... Now he came to think of it, weren’t witches supposed to expect a traditional, on-bended-knee, diamond ring-bearing proposal from their wizards?

“Er… Gin, Merlin knows nothing would make me happier than living together, and I am more than eager to move in with you, but, aren’t we too young to get married? Or are you intending to have a long engagement?” Harry knew that just making the commitment public would be enough to get the cottage. “And by the way, don’t you want me to propose to you? Something romantic, with a ring, after asking permission from your father, that sort of thing?”

Ginny released Harry’s hands and doubling over, she laughed out loud. Harry did not know if he should feel amused or offended. But soon, the corners of his mouth twitched and he joined her in mirth. He loved seeing her happy and carefree. 

“What’s so funny? I know I would be pitiful, but a man’s got to do what he has to do, right?” he said, mocking offence. 

“Oh, dear,” said Ginny, wiping tears, “you’re the sweetest guy, but you couldn’t do romance to save your life. Luckily for you, I am a girl who doesn’t wear jewellery, much less hypothetical engagement rings, or any rings at all that would get in the way of Chaser’s gloves. I also think that broom polish is the perfect gift, like to get sloshed on Valentines’ Day and don’t give a Gurdyroot about meaningless traditions. If I think marriage is a great idea, I am not going to wait for you to propose it, and why the hell should you go down or your knee, or ask my father beforehand? In fact, I’m not planning on telling my parents until it’s practically all said and nearly done.”

“Do you want to elope?”, asked Harry, remembering Bill and Fleur’s wedding, the only one he had attended. He could very well do without all the stress and preparations, but on the other hand, it would be nice to have all his friends reunited. Harry did not know how to have one thing without the other. 

“Nope. If you agree, we will be married two months from now, on my birthday. We won’t make the engagement public, I want to avoid Skeeter meddling and nosing at all costs,” said Ginny, grinning, with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

_This is the Gin I know and love_ , thought Harry. “I can tell you have something under your sleeve, Weasley. Two months? How are we going to prepare a wedding in two months?”

“By not calling it a wedding.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Listen then. This year, your birthday falls on a Monday, worst day for a party. We will tell everyone we’re throwing a joint birthday party on mine, which falls on a Friday, conveniently so. Nobody will suspect anything: it makes sense having only one party, the dates are close enough and everybody knows how busy we always are. Once we have all our family, friends and plenty of food at the Burrow, we simply announce a change in the plan, tie the knot, celebrate all night and then leave for Almeria, where we can spend a few days alone on honeymoon before I join my teammates in summer training camp. Where, as my husband, you will be allowed to stay! It’s perfect! You will love Spain.”

“I would love it no matter the place,” said an enthusiastic Harry. “It’s brilliant!”

“Yeah! And when camp’s over, we will move into the cottage! It’s small, it has only two bedrooms, but it’s cosy, and enough for the both of us. We could have Teddy to sleep over! Gwenog and Rachel are raising little Matt in the nearest cottage; they could be friends and play together! Oh, I can’t wait to live with you… we’ll have dinner together every day, and breakfasts in the morning… I’ll take care of the laundry if you take over the kitchen, you’re a better cook than me…” 

Harry listened to Ginny excitedly describing their future life, but something she had said had made him wonder… there was more to marriage than shared breakfasts.

“Gin…” he said.

She did not hear him. “And we could sleep together at the Burrow, and you could come with me on my travels, if you’re not on assignment…” 

“Gin, do you… did you think about… Ginny!” he called, and he finally got her attention.

“What?”

“Have you thought… about children?”

The change on her face was evident. She averted her eyes, and clasped her hands together. Harry waited without saying a word. Eventually, Ginny spoke. “No. Well, yes, but…” she exhaled a breath, and finally stared at him. “I… I don’t know if I want to have kids, Harry… not yet, of course, but even after some years… I dunno. Quidditch is more than my job, it’s my passion… I know you love children, but…”

“I don’t know if I want to have children either, Gin.” 

Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise. “But… we’ve never discussed it, but I supposed…” Now it was her turn to be speechless, but it did not last long. “You like being with kids, and you’re good with them, so I figured you would want to have babies of our own, one day… I was afraid of telling you I wasn’t decided, but… you?” The incredulity in her voice was palpable. 

Harry sighed. “Yeah, kids are great, and it’s fun having them over, but… when they get tired, or difficult, or sick, you just give them back. When Teddy throws a tantrum, or Victoire gets colicky, I quickly look for Andromeda, Bill or Fleur.”

“Not always. I’ve seen you deal with more than one tantrum and just the other day, you got Vic to sleep just fine,” said Ginny. “I didn’t tell you at the moment, but I found another side of you capable of turning me on.” She winked at him. 

“You showed me afterwards all right,” chuckled Harry before going on. “If we have children, we will be the ones to get them back… and I don’t know if I could be a good father. I…” he felt a lump in his throat, and said no more.

“You didn’t have a father of your own to base your experience on, am I right?” Ginny said kindly, displaying once again her unerring ability to read his mind. 

Still fighting the lump, Harry nodded. “Children are a great responsibility. You have to do your best to raise them, give them a good childhood and cover all their needs. And then one day they fly off, just like Healer O’Reilly said. Off to a life of their own, in a world where evil will never be completely eradicated. Where they are going to suffer no matter how hard you try to protect them. Where one day Death will make us leave them behind, or even worse–“ Harry recalled the Weasleys, the Creeveys, the Browns and many other parents at the funerals of their sons and daughters, and had to force back the lump harder–“Death could take them from us…”

He stopped to recompose himself. It seemed a bit stupid to get all emotional about the life and death of non-existent children that they were not sure they wanted to have in the first place, but he could not help it. He stared down at the blankets, fiddling with a frayed edge. He only raised her head when he heard Ginny sniffing and looking for a handkerchief inside her bag. She blew her nose, paused looking at the cloth and then let out a watery laugh. 

“O’Reilly was right; whether they are from joy or grief, tears will become bogies just the same,” and with that, both of them erupted in laugh at the same time, the nervous tension evaporating. 

“I must say, from that point of view, having a child seems like the craziest, most selfish decision one could ever make, doesn’t it?” said Ginny, casting a Tergeo on the handkerchief before pocketing it. “Why bring a baby into this mad world when there are plenty already born that you can borrow from their parents?” Harry found himself nodding in agreement. “Being an aunt, you have all the fun and minimal worries. Not to mention, I still feel chills every time I remember the day Teddy was born, urgh!” she grimaced. “That did not look easy or pain free at all. And yet, sometimes, when Teddy changes his hair to look like you, or when I am holding Victoire, I can’t help but wonder… to dream with having a baby, you know?”

Harry nodded at this, too. “I don’t remember Remus happier than the night Teddy was born. Most desperate, too, than when he knew he was going to be a father and tried to skip his responsibilities by going on the Horcrux hunt with us. It’s a good thing he eventually saw sense and returned home with Tonks.”

“You mean you knocked said sense almost literally into him, don’t you?” said Ginny, snickering. “Tonks told me,” she said, answering his unspoken question. 

“It may be a hell of a job, but parents should stick to their children. When I see your father, proud of every one of you…

“Even of the prat ones,” remarked Ginny. 

“Well, yes,” he chuckled. “Or, look at your brother Bill. I’ve seen plenty of people scared and frightened under the worst attacks and dangers. Nothing compared to the face of your brother when Fleur’s waters broke at the remembrance ceremony at Hogwarts. And no joy like his, when he walked out of the hospital wing holding the baby and showed her to us. I felt… envious. I wondered if it would be worth it, after all. I still don’t have an answer, Gin.”

She nodded and chewed her lip. “I think… maybe we should reach an agreement.”

“How’s that?” asked Harry. 

“Well, let’s go over the wedding vows. Marriage implies mutual respect, fidelity…”

“Not a problem with that. I respect you deeply and have no desire to look at other women. Or men, for that matter,” he grinned. 

“Good to know,” laughed Ginny. “Same here. Secondly, we have to take care of each other in sickness and in health, stick together for richer or poorer.”

“We’ve already done that before. You’ve got some Bludgers blunders on your account, too. And about the gold, I’m lucky to marry you, because you make much more than I, plus you provide free housing. You’re quite a catch, Weasley!”

Ginny’s cackle was louder this time. “Right you are, Potter, I am. Now, back to serious things, that leaves only the promise to love, support and comfort each other whatever the future may bring. I have to say this… I know we are young, but our parents were, too, when they got married. And we’ve lived more than many people older than us. I feel ready to take that step with you. About children, or whatever the future may bring us… we’ll decide together when the occasion presents itself, shall we?”

Harry gazed at her. She was calm and firm, she had fought to be at his side after fearing for his life once again, after feeling excluded and shunned. Yet instead of chucking him, she wanted to tie the knot. Harry imagined himself going home every day after work to cook dinner for both of them and not for George and Ron. Sleeping every night with her, and not alone in the bunk bed in Fred’s old bedroom. Going on holidays together, making plans with her. Having children, or not having them at all… that could wait. All that mattered was the chance to be with her and have his own family, just the two of them…

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, I will marry you,” he said, and next second, the woman in question had leapt onto him and proceeded to snog him, heedless of his injuries. Harry did not mind, until he winced in pain and Ginny sprang apart from him, breathless. “Oh, sorry! I should have been more careful.”

“I’m not complaining,” said Harry, catching his breath, too. “So, it’s true? We’re getting married in two months?” 

He still could not believe his luck. He recalled the time at that other wedding, when he imagined Ginny marrying a faceless man, because he wouldn’t dare to dream of a future with her. And now the man was no longer faceless… it was he! He would jump and whoop of joy, if it was not for the fact that he was bedridden. 

“We are,” replied Ginny. “We have to work out some details. We won’t make the engagement public, but we need to tell a few indispensable people. I need my two bridesmaids to help me with the dress, for instance. You will want to tell your best man and your boss. So we’ll have Hermione, Luna, Kingsley and I’m guessing you’ll make Ron best man, maybe Neville groomsmen, as accomplices. Kingsley will have to grant you permission for the honeymoon, and he can get us a marriage license discreetly, even officiate the ceremony. Is it ok with you?”

“More than ok. Better Kingsley than any priest we don’t know. But good luck trying to find a wedding dress without alerting Skeeter’s radar. I swear that woman has a spy in every wizard shop. She once wrote an article about my stationery choice and concluded I was cheating on you with the attendant at the post office!”

“She deserved the package of maggots I sent her. What?” she said, eyeing Harry’s face of surprise. “I took a leaf out of Kreacher’s book. But don’t worry; I’m not intending to buy anything. I will wear my mother’s gown, a bit altered. I will take off the sleeves and shorten the skirt over the knees. My mother will forgive us immediately for keeping the wedding secret the moment she sees me wearing her dress. She bought it from a Muggle second hand shop, back in the sixties. When I was a little girl, I used to get it out the wardrobe and try it on. It has the most beautiful flowers sewn in the tulle. As for the rest… we will send invitations to what will seem an ordinary birthday party. Luna can make me a bouquet out of wildflowers, and I will put some in my hair. I wouldn’t bother with rings, truth be told, but if you like them, you can take care of that in a Muggle shop. Personally, I like that new Muggle fashion of getting them tattooed, seems practical. And I think that’s all we need to get married.”

“You really put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?” said an amused Harry. “Did you think about what I should wear? I don’t see myself into robes, to be frank.”

“Wear whatever takes your fancy, we want to be comfortable and have fun. If I get to choose, I’d go for those amazing jeans that make me want to grab your bum, and a simple white shirt. You’ll be the one greeting the guests outside while I get ready upstairs and tell my family what we’re about to do, it would be weird if you wore dress robes, wouldn’t it?”

“You truly don’t care about traditions,” he laughed, and then he got serious. “Gin, are you sure this is what you want? No matching ribbons, no music band, no birds flying off a golden marquee?”

“Don’t remind me of those bloody birds, one dropped its crap on my shoulder,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “I said I didn’t care about _meaningless_ traditions. We will put the wireless on, dance to whatever it blurts out and stuff our faces with my mother’s cooking. Ribbons, fancy bridesmaid dresses and balloons are totally superfluous, what matters here is that you and I will get bonded for life, and we’ll share the moment with the people we love. But–“ she smiled and gazed at him in a peculiar way “–there’s one tradition I will follow, because it’s meaningful for me.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to keep my name when I’m on a broom at the Quidditch pitch, but outside it… there are enough Weasleys to pass on the name, but only one Potter.”

His heart flipped when he heard that. He had not expected this. He frequently called her Weasley, and she called him Potter, like they did at Quidditch practice at Hogwarts. She was very proud of her achievements; she had worked hard to be known as Chaser Weasley, not ‘Potter’s girlfriend’. One reporter at the sports section of the Prophet had learned that lesson the hard way. People said that Ginny’s Howler was still echoing in the newspaper’s office. 

“Gin, I would never ask you…”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she interrupted. “This is my decision. I want to shout out to the world that I am your family, your next of kin, so loud and clear that there won’t be any need to look at an emergency contact list. So I will take your name. I will be Ginny Potter.”

For the umpteenth time, Harry thought he did not deserve the great luck of having her in his life. He did not have words to express it, so he pulled Ginny into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. She responded passionately, until she accidentally touched one of his recently healed cuts and made him wince in pain again. She freed herself, apologizing, and sat back on the bed, her eyes sparkling. 

“I’ve just remembered… there’s one perk of my job I haven’t told you, and I think you may like it.”

“Oh Weasley, I cannot wait to hear it.”

“The staff and their families are allowed to use the Quidditch pitch out of training hours, for private practice and informal matches. Just imagine the both of us flying together, before going back to the house and…”

Harry grinned mischievously. Suddenly, two months seemed a very long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know more about the wedding, check out my multi-chaptered fic What Really Matters!


	8. Long, Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun has finally risen for Sheherazade... :-)

**2003**

“You know, you have a special look of yourself, too, and you had it on most of that time at St. Mungo’s. I call it the ‘I can’t believe my luck’ look,” said Ginny, buttering a piece of toast. 

She had eventually admitted she was a little hungry, but did not want to cook, so Harry had brought a tray with tea and toast upstairs. They were sitting cross-legged in the bed, the tray between them, eating.

Harry snorted. “I bet that’s how I looked the whole wedding day. It’s exactly what I felt.”

“Of course you did. It was a special day. All went according to plans, Skeeter’s sorry bug arse never got to interfere, everyone was chuffed and we had a lot of fun,” said Ginny. 

“Your Aunt Muriel wasn’t so delighted. Spent all the time complaining about ‘terrible fashions’, ‘no respect for traditions whatsoever’, and how nice you would’ve looked with ‘my tiara, a long veil and a proper dress and not one that looked like found at the bottom of a trunk and then trashed down by a litter of Kneazles’,” he said, affecting his voice like Muriel’s. 

“Bollocks. That old bat was as thrilled as the rest. I know for a fact that she’s still bragging at her friends’ gatherings about her presence at our wedding,” she said, emphasizing her words with the butter knife. “And she certainly didn’t complain about the mead, she all but inhaled it!”

“Plenty of good memories…” Harry reminisced.

“Tell me your favourite,” asked Ginny, chewing a bite. 

Harry feigned to be immersed in thought, pausing over his second mug of tea. “Why, of course, George’s fireworks.”

“Prat,” she said, slapping him in the arm and making him slosh the tea and drip it over the sheets. Harry laughed and took his wand to clean the mess. “But you have a point, those fireworks were gorgeous.”

“I’ll never forget him hugging us, saying how proud of us Fred would’ve been, having the wedding he would’ve approved of. And how he ran to change the wording of the sparks before setting them off, and putting a Body Bind on your mother to fulfil Fred’s wishes.”

“Also, to prevent her from having a stroke at the sight of the fireworks,” she said. “I think ‘Just Allowed To Shag’ was the best.”

“Closely followed by ‘The Boy Who Got Chased’ and ‘Mr & Mrs Pooper’,” he chuckled. 

Ginny nodded in agreement. “Those wedding fireworks are now a money spinner at Wheezes, we should claim a share.”

“Nah, your brothers would say that it was George’s work and Ron’s idea to sell them, it just happened to be at our wedding.”

“Ron also had that night the idea for their Feet Fenders, when he saw us dancing. Are you sure we can’t at least ask payment for being a source of inspiration?”

“Ask the goblins, they are experts on pricing the most bizarre things. Just don’t expect them to give you a quick answer. Took them ages to agree on compensations.” The goblins had lifted the ban and let him enter his vault last year, after getting a fat sum from Harry. It had made quite a dent in his gold, which he did not mind, but he still had hard feelings from the years the goblins had treated him like a criminal. He dispelled those thoughts; the ones from the wedding were much nicer. 

“And I’m not that bad at the dance floor,” he protested. “Besides, you didn’t marry me for my dancing abilities.” He sipped from his mug of tea.

“No, I did it for your skills in bed,” she said, causing Harry to spray tea all over the bed. Ginny rolled with laughter. Harry scowled at her and picked his wand again to siphon the liquid away.

“And I wedded you in spite of your cheekiness, Mrs Potter.”

“No, you did it _because_ of it. You have to admit you love it,” she said between laughs. 

He could not help smiling. “I do.”

“I know,” she said simply. She changed the topic. “Hey, are the stories over? Did I never cast that famous look of mine on you again, after we got engaged?”

“Well, yes, twice. One, when you were walking down the makeshift aisle on your father’s arm. To this day, I still can’t recall anything of that moment except your face and your eyes. You could have been wearing a burlap sack and I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would’ve, afterwards. If only to figure how to undress me as quickly as you did with the dress, when we got to be alone.”

“I wouldn’t have bothered with a sack. I didn’t Vanish the dress because I knew you would want to keep it. Someone taught me that trick,” he winked.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t have the same patience. I really liked those jeans,” she sighed. 

“I still have the shirt, if you want it. No buttons, though. Got scattered when you ripped it open and didn’t remember to Summon them,” he snickered.

“I’ll bear it in mind.” She finished her toast and stared at him. “And the last story?”

“Hallowe’en, two years ago. It’s weird, because compared to the rest, it wasn’t extraordinarily special. But it was unforgettable all the same. Best Hallowe’en to present date, I think.”

“How’s that so?” she said, picking up her mug. 

“We were at the Auror office party, remember?” he said. Ginny’s eyes widened in recognition. “Those two trainees, Langdon and Bellini, were talking to me. You arrived from the toilets and I introduced them to you. But instead of saying ‘my wife, Ginny Weasley’, I remembered for the first time to say ‘Ginny Potter’. And you looked at me with that hard, blazing stare of you.”

Ginny smiled. “Now I remember. All of a sudden, you got really nervous and dropped your glass. What were you thinking?”

“Due to our shared history of epic moments related to that look, I expected you to drop a bomb in the form of telling me you had been offered to play in Australia… or that you were pregnant.”

Ginny choked on the tea. She dropped the mug over the tray, spraying tea everywhere, and coughed so much that Harry looked around for his wand to cast an Anapneo, which she refused with a gesture. While she was coughing and catching her breath, he patted her back. She straightened at last and looked at the stained sheets, which were also littered with crumbs. She sighed, picked up her wand and Scourgified them, to little avail. 

“It’s no use, we will have to change them, there is a limit to what magic can do.” She scrunched her nose, not meeting his stare. 

“Gin…” he called. 

She picked up the tray and made to get out of the bed, but Harry stopped her. The stories were over, it was her turn.

“Ginny, the sun has risen for Scheherazade. Now I believe you have to tell me something.”

Ginny blushed. She grinned and finally looked at him. 

“Do you remember that day, weeks ago, when we took a stroll on the beach and had lunch from that stalls at the street?”

He did not expect this. “How could I forget? You got food poisoning and were sick for two days. Not even the team’s Healer could patch you up sooner. You missed the match against the Cannons, which the Harpies lost, Gwenog blamed you for the defeat and you felt miserable. On top of it, Ron teased you mercilessly. It’s incredible how much mess a bad sandwich can cause,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, well… turns out the mess was greater than we thought,” she muttered.

“Gin, please, you’re not one to run in circles. Just spit it out.”

She took a deep breath. “Apparently, diarrhoea can affect the absorption of the Contraceptive Concoction. You’re supposed to use alternative methods the rest of the cycle, or abstain from coitus.”

Harry sat very still, hearing her without daring to say anything. 

“We did nothing of the sort,” she said. 

Harry nodded once. “So, what you’re trying to say is…”

Ginny nodded, too. “There’s a bun in the oven, and it’s not one of your orange and cinnamon ones, Harry.”

He did not react at all. Ginny moved closer to him and put one hand in his shoulder, eyes not wavering from his. 

“You knocked me up, Potter. You hearing me?”

Harry exhaled the breath he was holding. 

“I already knew, Weasley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see that coming? XD


	9. I Already Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok folks, this is the end. Thanks a lot for sticking with me until now. Hope you like this chapter; it has references to a sensitive matter, and I apologise in advance if it offends you in any way. As I said, these characters are down to earth. They suffered, grieved, made bad decisions, learned from past errors, worked hard to earn respect and some gold, fought to be together and now that they’re facing unplanned parenthood, they are assaulted by doubts. This chapter does not try to open a debate about abortion, but I felt that it was something they would consider (though I must say, my opinion is identical to Healer O’Reilly’s). My head canon is that, given the fact that James Sirius was born only a few years into Ginny’s career, both he and Albus Severus were not planned. I think she tried to keep on playing after James, but gave up when Albus was on his way and this was a hard decision for her. As predicted in this chapter (which is what usually happens in real life), being parents was not easy for them. But eventually, if you work hard, and have a bit of luck, it’s totally worth it. :-D
> 
> A big thank you to Ginny Guerra, who kindly offered to Beta this chapter when I was first posting it, and Arnel, who took time to correct and edit the whole work, and has been a source of encouragement.
> 
> This story is dedicated to my beautiful daughters, who are mainly delighted that I'm her mother in spite of my many peculiarities. Specially to my eldest, who was the first to enjoy this.

**2003**

“You… you knew? Since when do you know it? I just confirmed it yesterday!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Gin, please, I may not be the smartest person in the world, but I have eyes, and I notice things. I’ve been dropping hints all morning, but you just giggled,” he said with a calm that he did not feel inside. 

“Those were… _hints_? I thought you were oblivious! But how… when did you know?” she stuttered. 

“For several days, you’ve been acting strangely. At first I blamed it on the awful end of the Quidditch season; I know you really wanted to play in the European league and that match against the Cannons swept the team’s chances away. But you’re not one to cry over a spilled potion. After a few days of sulking, I expected to see you putting your misery back and focusing on the holidays and the next season, as you always do. Instead of that, your anxiety grew, so I began to watch you closely. At the Burrow, you went to the herb garden to pick up the chamomile you like to use on the potion you take every period to alleviate symptoms. You brew it personally because it’s your gran’s recipe and you don’t want the Harpies’ potioneer to have it, it’s supposed to stay in the family. But you didn’t brew the potion. I know you do it on the first day of your period because it has a short shelf life.”

Ginny was gaping at him, surprise etched in her face. “I… I had no idea you knew me so well…”

Harry smiled. “Give me some credit, Gin. We’ve been living together for three years now, and I’ve been known to pay attention every once in a while to the things _I’m fond of,_ ” he teased her. 

“So that’s why you knew: because you noticed my period was late.”

“That’s only one reason. It’s not the first time your period was late because of stress. But then you began to run out of the kitchen every time I cooked and started to take your meals outside in the terrace. I’ve been around enough pregnant women, both at the Burrow and at work, to know what that means. And, Merlin, Gin, my eyesight may not be great, but I’d have to be _blind_ to not notice that your breasts have… well… _WOW_.” He blushed hard, and snickered when he saw Ginny’s face mirroring his. She shook her head, as if trying to dispel the embarrassment.

“But then, if you knew… why didn’t you tell me? What were you waiting for?” she inquired. 

Harry squirmed in the bed. That was the crux of the question. He took a deep breath.

“I was waiting for you to tell me. I didn’t… I wanted to…,” he exhaled the breath and stared Ginny in the eyes. _Be a Gryffindor, you git._ “I didn’t want to count on it until I knew what you had decided about it.”

Ginny looked stunned. Harry almost could hear the wheels turning in her head. Surely, in a moment, she was going to ask…

“Decided about… what? The baby?” she said in a small voice.

Harry closed his eyes and braced himself. “Gin, we may be married, but you’re not my possession. It’s your body, the one that’s changing as we speak. It’s your career, the first to be affected. You’d have to spend at least a year off the game, between the pregnancy and the postpartum. From my point of view, only you get to have a – a say in the issue. I–“ he swallowed and kept on, “–my role is supporting you no matter what you decide.”

If possible, Ginny looked much more shocked than before. “But then what you’re saying… do you want to… do you think _not_ keeping it is the best option?”

“I… I don’t know, Gin. This is big. It’s going to change all our plans. The European Championship will take place next summer. Everyone’s betting on you to play for England, but if we have the baby, your place in the national team is not guaranteed. Are you sure you want to risk it?”

Ginny fixed her stare on him. Harry felt his insides twist in a knot. 

“Harry, what’s this all about? You’re not telling me everything.”

The knot tightened and he gulped. “I saw you yesterday, at the O’Reilly’s.”

Ginny paled and glared at him. “Were you following me?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I– I was there, having tea with them. You knocked the front door. I didn’t want to impose my presence with new visitors so I bade them goodbye and left the house through the back door, under the Cloak. But I saw you through the windows, before Disapparating. You didn’t tell me anything when you got back, so I thought…” He paused, doubting. 

“What did you think?“ she asked softly. 

Harry let his head fall. “That maybe… you went to seek advice for getting rid of the baby.”

His words were met with a silence. Harry raised his head to gaze at her; she was looking at him with a strange expression. 

“I have to admit, I’ve considered it,” she said. 

His mouth went dry. “And what have you decided?”

Ginny sighed softly. “That I had to tell you first, and hear what you had to say on the matter. Rose did a quick check-up on me, said that everything was fine so far. I... burst in tears; so she fixed me some tea and let me blow off steam. We talked and then she sent me home with a leaflet and Vitamin Vials that I’m to take if I want to keep the baby, and a potion if I… don’t.”

“She didn’t talk you into doing one thing or another?” he asked. 

Ginny shook her head. “Rose told me that as a Healer, she had to stay neutral, and as a friend who had enjoyed motherhood as a choice and not an imposition, she wanted the same freedom for all the women.”

“So… do you still have the potion?” Harry whispered. 

“I told you, I wanted to discuss this with you first,” she rolled her eyes and huffed, exasperated. “What’s going on, Harry? It’s not like us to be on tenterhooks, afraid to talk and running circles about a problem. What do _you_ think? I know this wasn’t in our plans. I know it would affect my career more than yours. I know we weren’t even sure we wanted children, but the fact remains: there’s a tiny Potter on the way. When we got engaged, we agreed to decide together when the occasion presented itself. That’s just what has happened. Let’s talk clearly, Harry: do you want to be a father or not? Because I’m not doing this alone.”

The mere suggestion that Ginny thought he would leave her outraged him. “You wouldn’t be! I was the one who told Remus to stick with Tonks and Teddy! I’d never–“

“I know you wouldn’t, Harry! That’s not what I’m asking you. I want you to be in this with me one hundred percent, and not just following my lead.” She grabbed his hands and looked him in the eyes. “What were you doing at the O’Reilly’s, Harry?”

Harry sighed. “I wanted to talk with them. Well, specifically with Patrick. He’s one of the few people I can confide in who’s not related to you and he’s a father himself. I asked him how he knew he was ready for children.”

After Harry’s accident three years ago, the two of them plus Ron and Hermione had met the O’Reilly’s at a Harpies-Tornados match, which the couple and their family had attended as guests of honour, invited by Ginny as a way to thank Rose for all she had done for her at St. Mungo’s. Patrick and Rose were cheerful, good-natured people and the six had quickly become friends despite the age difference. 

“You went for advice, like me. I’m not surprised. What did Pat tell you?”

“Well, he said that both of them came from large families and wanted one of their own, so having children was never questioned between them. And there came a moment in their relationship when they simply did not want to wait more. But that even when you are convinced and totally going for it, you feel that you’re diving in waters which you haven’t the faintest idea you can swim. It’s a leap of faith. For him, totally worth it but at the same time the toughest thing he’s done in his life. Told me nobody teaches you how to be a parent, no matter how ready you feel, and only when your offspring leave home and begin to do well on their own, you feel something like having passed the exams, only no one hands you any marks or certificates. And then he patted me in the back, switched my tea for a tumbler of Firewhiskey and muttered something about teaching me some good air refreshing charms and always having a bottle of fine mead for the rough nights. No clue what he was referring to.”

“Sounds like the type of thing my father should say,” nodded Ginny. “So, after that valuable advice Patrick gave you, have you decided anything?”

Harry bowed his head. “No… I don’t know, Gin. I’m shit scared, to be frank. Half of me wants to cry of joy and the other half is paralyzed with fear, and the ‘what ifs’ never cease to nag me. Raising Teddy is one thing; we always look up to Andromeda. But this one… this one’s gotta be entirely up to us.”

“Well, that’s a start,” she said. “I was the same until this morning, just before you woke up.”

The mysterious sobs and giggles he had heard from the bathroom. “Yeah, you’ve been acting crazy all morning. I can’t keep up with you. What happened in the bathroom?”

Ginny did not answer immediately. She seemed to be fighting an internal battle, biting her lip while staring at him. Finally, she looked to have reached a decision, for she nodded.

“You need to see something. I’ll show you.” 

To Harry’s bewilderment, she picked up her wand, banished the breakfast tray to the dressing table and conjured a piece of blank parchment. Ginny leaned against the pillows, bared her abdomen and placed the parchment over it. 

“It’s a very tricky spell. Rose used it on me yesterday. She refused to let me see the image, said that she couldn’t influence my decision, but she taught me the incantation and warned me to use it only if I was sure of wanting… Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I spent hours thinking and then I’ve been ages at the bathroom, trying this until I got it right. Still, I can’t do it non verbally. Let’s see if I can get it again…” She pointed her wand at the parchment, drew a circle with it and said, _”Revelio Matricis.”_

Harry stared blankly at the sheet. At first, nothing happened. But the second time Ginny repeated the spell, tiny dots in shades of red and pink began to appear in the parchment, in a fuzzy fashion that reminded Harry vaguely of a Muggle television not tuned. 

“What is this supposed to be, Gin? All I see is … dots, I’d say…”

“Keep watching,” she replied.

He did as told. Slowly, the blur of dots began to arrange themselves in a vague rounded figure. Harry saw a white bubble begin to expand in the middle of it, and inside the bubble, first a tiny speck, then something slightly bigger, and suddenly…

_“Whoa.”_

What started like a speck had taken a blurry, little, yet unmistakable humanoid form in which the head and four tiny limbs were clearly discernible. To his utter amazement, the little being seemed to be moving quite a lot. Harry did not know what to make of most of the things he could see, but he supposed he could guess what the little cluster of dots in the middle, fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, was.

“Is that…” he pointed at it, open-mouthed.

Ginny nodded and spoke with a voice full of emotion. “Yes, that’s our baby, and the heart is beating. Reckon he or she is actually the size of a raspberry, but the spell magnifies it so you can see it best.”

Harry was only half-hearing her. His attention was fixed on the small figure inside the bubble. This was… A million emotions flooded his brain. Awe. Pride. A fierce sense of protectiveness. Joy, pure and bursting joy. 

“… Rose’s always been interested in Muggle Healing, or Medicine, whatever. Wizarding and Muggle illnesses don’t have much in common but she was intrigued by their diagnosis methods, to actually see what’s happening inside the body, so she worked with a Muggle doctor and she finally found a spell that could replicate what they call _ultrasuns_ or something like that…” 

Of course, the fear had not left: fear for a zillion things that went from worry for the well-being of the tiny baby and Ginny, to concern for his ability to take care of him – _or her, could be a girl,_ he thought with a jolt of surprise– and anguish for the uncountable dangers the world posed. But all that had sort of taken a back seat. Two things dawned on him: that as the same time he realized the fear and worry were never going to leave him, he also did not want to let this baby disappear from their lives. All of a sudden, their plans, their careers and other issues seemed unimportant. All that mattered was this unnamed child that had disrupted their lives. 

“Harry? Harry… are you ok? Say something, please.”

Her words finally broke through his bubble of mixed emotions and Harry tore his gaze from the piece of parchment and looked at Ginny. She gave him a tentative smile, then looked down at her tummy and muttered something. The image froze and she picked up the sheet and gave it to him. 

“I’ve put a preservation spell on it, it should work like taking a photograph,” she said when he took it. 

Harry did not realize that he was crying until a tear splashed on the edge of the parchment. In his haste for swiping it, his hand crashed with Ginny’s; the two of them locked eyes, and after several moments of stillness, they both burst out laughing. They went on for minutes, until he felt stitches in his sides. Ginny was wiping tears and still cackling when he engulfed her in a hug and kissed her hard. 

“We’re going to be parents, Harry,” she said when he broke the kiss.

“We really are,” he whispered in amazement. “Merlin! I’m going to be a father! I’m… wow!” He ran his hands through his hair, and looked at Ginny, who was giggling. “Now I know how you feel.”

“I’m glad to have you on the same page as me.”

“So that’s how you knew what you wanted? After seeing the baby?”

Ginny nodded, still grinning. “I just had to do it, I could not try to. When I finally got to see the baby, it was like the world turned upside down and then righted itself, only everything had changed places, you know what I mean? And all of a sudden the Championship, or next season, were not the things I cared for the most. It was the baby, and I simply knew I couldn’t get rid of it. I know it’s not going to be easy, and I am worried about a thousand different things, and it wasn’t planned; but, hey, I also thought of all the awful things that ever happened in our lives without us having a say in it, like you with the prophecy that marked your life, or Lucius Malfoy dropping that wretched diary in my cauldron, and what if life, or fate, or whatever, decided to throw something at us that it’s actually good? What if fate put that sandwich in our lives?”

“You do realize what a barmy theory that is, don’t you?” he chuckled. 

“Oh, of course, but who cares?” 

Both of them laughed again. When they eventually sobered up, Harry took her hands in his. “Not all the things we didn’t choose turned out bad, you know. For instance, meeting you and your family the first time I went to King’s Cross.”

“Or you, getting banned from the last Quidditch match in your sixth year…”

“Something like that,” he smiled. “I reckon we didn’t choose this, but it is going to be ok, you know?”

Ginny looked at him with her hard, blazing stare, and swiftly, she pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. She whispered in his ear.

“As long as we get to do it together, Potter, I’m sure of that.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read a sort of epilogue, check out my one-shot That Look In His Eyes.
> 
> (Yes, I suck at titles XD)


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